this is dangerous ('cause i want you so much, but i hate your guts)
by jacklavigne
Summary: More than six years after Clarke leaves Camp Jaha, she finds herself forced onto the road that leads to Polis. Peace never lasts on the ground and war is on the horizon, but can the Commander be trusted this time around? or, Clarke's clan gets attacked, Lexa is married, Clarke is still mad and a little bit broken and shit is about to get real.
1. Chapter 1

_you never said a word/you didn't send me no letter/don't think i could forgive you/our world is slowly dying/i'm not wasting no more time/dont think i could believe you/our hands will get more wrinkled and our hair will be grey/don't think i could i could forgive you/the children are starving and their houses were destroyed/dont think they could forgive you_  
when seas will cover lands and when men will be no more/dont think you can forgive you/when there will just be silence and when life will be over/dont think you can forgive you  
prayer in the c - lilly wood & the prick

The sunlight feels good against your skin, beams of light brightening up the forest, warming your face as you tilt your head up to the rays that pour through the thick canopy above you. You feel your body sway from side to side, a steady rhythm as you move naturally with the mare that bears your weight. You can hear the ordinary sounds of the woods that surround you as you let your eyes slide briefly shut; the sounds of wildlife scurrying across the ground, the faint trickle of water somewhere nearby, the call of a bird. It's been a long time since you've ventured into these woods, with it's giant, century old oaks; the home of the _Trikru._

 _Almost four years,_ you muse to yourself, listening carefully as a faint sound catches your attention, a noise that doesn't fit in with the melody of the woods, followed by the crack of a branch. You become alert immediately, right hand reaching for one of the many blades that are hidden on your person as you remember the reason why you're following this path in the first place.

 _Peace never lasts,_ you think.

You feel your horse become restless beneath you, muscles tensing as it restrains the urge to bolt and you stroke her neck softly as you grip the handle of the dagger that is hidden at the small of your back while you lean forward to murmur soothingly in her flickering ears.

"Steady, girl."

You feel the shift in the air as the arrow is loosed and you hunch forward over the mare's neck, long fingers tangling in the black mane as you tighten your thighs, urging the horse into a run. The arrow flies harmlessly above you, the head sticking in the trunk of a nearby tree as you twist in the saddle, flicking the dagger into the shadows behind you.  
A gasp and a thud lets you know that you've hit your mark and you smile grimly in satisfaction, urging your horse even faster as you bolt through the trees. You hear quick footsteps following behind you, and your smile only grows as they give chase, knowing that they won't catch you before you reach your destination.  
Your blue eyes search the distance, looking for a break in the thick clusters of trees, hearing a warm, familiar voice whispering instructions in your head.

 _"Follow the coast until you reach the edge of the woods and ride north for two days, until you reach the road to Polis. You must not be seen or heard; their spies are everywhere and they will warn the Queen of your approach. Ride hard, Clarke, we're all counting on you."_

 __You barely turn your head as an arrow skims past your shoulder, whistling in your ear as you continue searching until you find a gap between the trees. You urge your horse impossibly faster, until you finally burst out from the tree line and hard hooves skid briefly on the dirt and rock road. You turn the mares head, glancing briefly behind you before you push onward, knowing that there's no time to waste, and giving yourself no time to question where you're going and what you're doing.

Your people are counting on you and there's only one person now that can help.

Even if she's the last person on earth that you ever wanted to see again.

/

You see the great walls of Polis long before you reach them, as they tower above you, seemingly to rise right into the heavens. Scrap pieces of metal and wood, tied together with rope made from tree bark, surround the great Capitol of the grounders. Even from this distance, you can see the faint, hulking figures of the warriors that stand on top of the walls, arrows fitted into their bows, ready to guard their city against any who would try and breach it.

Your body is slick with sweat from the exhausting ride, as is Raven's, the midnight black horse that you named after a girl that you once knew, what feels like a lifetime ago. You feel a sharp stab of guilt as you notice the froth that is starting the form around the horse's muzzle, knowing that you've pushed her much too hard in the three day ride that you've taken together from the coast.

You had only stopped twice, for less than an hour each time, to let the horse rest and get it's fill of food and water. You had ridden hard for most of the trip, only slowing to give the horse a break and to let yourself catch a few minutes of sleep from atop it's back, lulled by the mare's steady gait. But Raven was strong, stronger and faster than any horse than any horse that you had ever met, with an air of determination and sometimes, a bit of an attitude, which is why you had named her after your old friend.

"We're almost there, girl," you say to the horse, feeling her muscles ripple beneath you as she runs. The walls are looming steadily closer, their shadow beginning to fall over you as you near the gates that remain firmly closed at your approach, hiding the city from your searching gaze.

Two members of the _Trikru_ are standing guard outside the gates, their faces stern and their bodies scarred from a lifetime of battle. Their hands grip tighter to their spears as you ride closer, pointing towards you threateningly as you finally skid to a stop, only a few meters away. With all the strength you have left, you swing your leg over the side of your horse, slipping down to the ground with barely a sound and raise your hands to show them, weaponless, to the guards.

" _Chon yu bilaik?_ " One of the guards growls in _trigedasleng,_ his dark eyes narrowed and suspicious. He towers above you, with tanned skin and dark tattoos that swirl over his bare arms, muscles flexing as he grips tighter to his weapon. _Who are you?_

 _"Ai laik Klark,_ " you speak, stumbling over the words that haven't been spoken from your lips in so long. " _Klark kom Skaikru."_

The two guards start at your unexpected introduction, their eyes wandering over your small but strong body, taking in your leather covered limbs and the weapons that are visible. You wonder briefly if you've ever met them before, knowing that you would be harder to recognize in your grounder clothing. You know that you've changed; your golden hair has grown long, littered with messy braids that now reach half way down your back, and it's lightened several shades in the passing years from spending so much time in the sun. You haven't grown much in your time away, but your body has changed much, losing it's childish curves and gaining muscle that now tenses and flexes beneath the stare of the two guards.

Your face has changed the most; harder now, since you lost the rest of your baby fat from your youth. Your cheeks have lost their roundness and are now more sharply planed, with a strong jawline that clenches with your nerves. Your skin is no longer pale, but is now a golden brown, bringing out the blue in your eyes; eyes that are the most changed things about your appearance, you know.

But it seems you haven't changed so much that the guards don't recognize you, because within moments, both men are staring at you in unabashed awe, dropping to their knees in a sign of respect that leaves you frozen with shock.

 _"Klark kom Skaikru,"_ the same guard speaks your name almost reverently, even though it hasn't been your name in almost six years. His next words are spoken in thick English. "We welcome you to Polis, _Skai heda,_ defeater of the _Maunon._ Do you wish to enter the city?"

You close your eyes briefly at the word, _Maunon,_ feeling a lump form in your throat as memories, nightmares, flit behind your closed lids. You quickly snap them open, clearing your throat before inclining your head. "I wish to speak to the Commander, your _heda;_ the news is urgent."

You watch as the two guards exchange almost guilty looks and feel your stomach drop, clenching your hands into fists as the second guard finally turns to look at you with apologetic eyes. They are a wide, stormy grey, and they remind you briefly of Luna.

(in a small moment of weakness, you wish desperately that she was here with you.)

" _Heda_ is not here, _Klark kom Skaikru,_ and we are not sure when she will return. She hunts in the woods, three days from here and has been gone for five days," he pauses briefly, matching your frown before his eyes suddenly brighten. "But, we could take you to her chosen, _Saka,_ who will surely receive you in _heda's_ absence. It would be our honor, _skai prisa._ "

 _Saka,_ the name is known to you, since you have heard it many times before, especially recently. You have heard it whispered in both awe and rage, spat with hatred and once, torn from the bloodied lips of a captured warrior, who died soon after.

On the tip of your own blade.

 _Saka kom Azgeda,_ or, you think disgustedly, more recently known as the Commander's _wife_.

Which is just so damn fitting, you think. The traitors deserve each other.

"No," the word spits quickly from your lips, with barely suppressed rage as you shake your head adamantly. "These words are for the Commander's ears only." You pause briefly, your mind whirling as you think, _unless._ "Is Indra here?"

The guards face's light up almost instantly at your words as they both nod their heads, seemingly excited to help you in any way they can. You let a tiny smile flit across your lips briefly at their response, before inclining your head slightly. "Could you take me to her?"

They nod once more and with a shrill whistle, the gate is being pulled open to admit you into the city, and you can't help but take a deep breath at the sight that greets you.

You've been to Polis once before, many years ago, under the cover of darkness, but the sight of the city still takes your breath away. Wooden huts and stone buildings line the walk ways, along with a few half collapsed buildings from the old world and there is so much colour that it seems to burst from every direction. There are people in every direction you look, bartering outside stalls and walking down the main street with small children running in between their legs. There is laughter bouncing off the walls of buildings, and the voices of merchants who shout into the streets, grabbing the attentions of passerbys eagerly.

Polis is full of so much _life,_ and you can't help the brief smile that flashes across your lips at the sight. It's warm and buzzing with so much energy that the whole city seems alive.

" _Jeres,"_ the guard who still stands at your side snaps at a warrior that stands just inside the gates, pulling you from your thoughts. "Escort _Klark kom Skaikru_ to the pits, where Indra is training the seconds."

The warrior, _Jeres,_ is a massive, hulking man, with scars lining his leather and fabric covered body and dark brown hair pulled back into a single braid. His eyes are wide and full of awe as he stares at you, his hazel eyes scanning up your body before finally meeting your stoic gaze.

" _Sha, Redar,"_ Jeres murmurs, giving you a short nod before beginning to lead you down the main street, where you follow, barely a step behind him.

You let your eyes wander as you follow the man's quick pace easily, taking in the small homes of the people of Polis, who stare back at you just as curiously as you stride along in their midst. Most of the houses are made with wood, though there are some made of brick and stone, along with larger buildings that still remained from the world before. You pass a bustling street of what you think must be the Polis markets, not so different from the ones you've seen in villages from years past, though much larger in scale. Farther in the distance, you can see a large, white stone building, standing high above the city in it's brilliance and you know that the building is where the Commander lives with her wife.

You don't let yourself linger on those thoughts, thoughts of the Commander, as you haven't for many years now. You still feel a prickle of bitterness, of anger at the thought of her, the faint taste of iron and bile at the back of your throat, but you push it away. There is no time.

 _Em pleni, Clarke._ Luna's voice whispers in your mind soothingly, enough to relax your slowly tensing muscles. _Stop fighting._

Jeres turns down an alleyway of sorts and you follow behind without hesitation, your sensitive ears picking up the faint sound of metal clashing against metal. The alley widens the further you travel, until you are faced with a rickety old metal gate that Jeres pushes open, before his hulking form disappears down the worn stone steps that lead down into the fighting pits.

The fighting pits are housed in a huge, open air stadium that reminds you of the football games that you used to watch with Wells on the Ark. Stone benches line the arena, enough to seat thousands, and the steep stone steps lead down to the blood soaked sand of the pit. You slowly walk down the steps, watching the fight between the two _Trikru_ warriors that is taking place before you. The fighters can't be more than fifteen years old, still skinny, with too long limbs and lacking the grace of a seasoned warrior. You watch closely as one of the boys missteps, fully earning the painful smack from the flat of the other boys blade as he leaves himself open for the strike to his ribs. You almost wince at the sharp sound, though the boy doesn't make a noise, simply dropping to one knee before swinging his blunted blade in an arc, aiming for his opponents knees.

" _Em pleni!"_ A strong and familiar voice shouts over the sound of the clashing blades easily, and both boys stop the fight instantly at the sound. " _Nou mou. Gon yo we!"_

You turn your head away from the boys, to find Indra standing at the other end of the arena, with her dark eyes locked firmly on you. Even from the distance, you can see the tightening around her wide eyes, her unhinged jaw that gives away her shock at your presence. Jeres stands at her side, whispering something in her ear before he also turns and follows the boys out of the pit, along with several others at the older woman's command, leaving the two of you alone.

"Sky princess," Indra says finally, as her eyes rake over the dark leather that hugs your form, her eyes pausing briefly as she catches sight of the sword hilt over your shoulder . Her voice is as monotone as ever, though you are surprised at the lack of anger that always used to coat her words when she addressed you. "We thought you dead."

 _The girl you knew is,_ you think as you take the last few steps down into the arena before your feet reach the sand. The grains beneath your feet remind you briefly of home, of waves crashing against rocks and the smell of the ocean. _Weakness,_ you think to yourself, pushing those thoughts away. _Focus._

"Indra," you say her name softly as you study the other woman, who hasn't changed much in all the time has passed. She must be close to reaching her fortieth year, you think, but she still looks as if she could cut a man's head from his shoulders with one simple stroke of her sword. _As strong as ever_. "As you can see, my body is whole."

 _Though my heart has blackened and withered, hollow inside my chest._

 __"Why are you here?" The dark skinned woman asks you bluntly, with her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, though the gesture is more natural instinct than threatening. "Last we heard of you, you had disappeared into the woods and your people knew not where you were."

"They still don't," you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm here for the Commander, though it seems as if I am five days late."

Indra's eyes harden as she holds your gaze, searching for something, though you know she won't find what she seeks in your hollow stare. You know that your blue eyes are a mere shadow of what they once were, no longer a window to your soul and emotions; showing nothing and hiding everything.

"If you come on behalf of the _Skaikru-"_ Indra begins, only to have you cut her off firmly, politeness be damned.

"I do not," you say coolly, earning a raised eyebrow from the other woman. "I come on behalf of _Luna kom Floukru."_

Both of Indra's eyebrows raise at this new information, the surprise on her features the first show of emotion that has passed between you. "What?"

You sigh, glancing warily around at the empty stadium before locking your eyes on the captain. "Luna sent me. I've been riding for three days to talk to the Commander on urgent business, but she isn't fucking _here._ "

(she's never really there when you need her, you think bitterly.)

You see the corner of Indra's lips curl into a smirk at your crude language, before it's smooths out into it's familiar thin line. "If it is on Luna's command, and the business is urgent as you say, we should speak to Saka str-"

" _No!"_ You hiss the word angrily, the emotions bubbling up without your permission, earning another surprised stare from the seasoned warrior at your exclamation. "I cannot."

"Saka is the Commander's chosen," Indra responds indignantly, her dark eyes sparking at your hissed words. "She has _heda's_ voice when she is not here to speak for herself."

"You don't understand!" You growl, fighting the urge to kick the sand beneath your feet in your frustration. You know you're acting childish, which is not what you want, especially in front of Indra, but you can't help yourself. You're so damn frustrated.

"Then _explain."_

You narrow your eyes at the older woman, receiving an angry stare in response before you finally give in. If the Commander isn't here, you didn't really have a choice. You needed help, _Luna_ needed help and you'd be damned if you left this city without it.

"We are under attack," you finally say, your voice emotionless, despite Indra's widening eyes. "The Boat people have been under attack since the first snow, at the beginning of winter. It is only now that we come for aid, as the snow has finally begun to melt and we could afford to make the journey to Polis to speak to the Commander. We have been almost completely boxed in over the last three months and supplies are running low and the casualties have been too many. There are too many of _them_."

"Too many of who?" Indra demands, taking a step towards you, with her dark eyes lightening with a barely concealed fire. "Too many of _who_ , Sky girl?"

Your eyes narrow hatefully as you stare at the older woman, and the name is spat from your mouth like poison.

" _Azgeda."_

 _/_

 __Indra didn't splutter in surprise at your words, nor did she falter in the slightest; merely stared at you with cold, hard eyes. You hadn't expected her to believe you, since you knew that she held no fondness for you and what you were saying sounded simply unbelievable. After all, the Commander _was_ married to the _Azgeda prisa_ and if her clan was truly attacking another clan that was apart of the Commander's coalition, it would be considered treason.

So, you are truly surprised when Indra merely nods at your information, without a single moment of hesitation.

"We must send our fastest trackers to _heda's_ camp immediately," Indra says, her voice lowered as she takes a step closer to you, until there was only mere inches between your bodies. "It will take a few days before she will return, but I know that she will ride hard and not rest until she does, once she hears the news. This must be kept quiet, for it would be ruinous to us all if _Saka_ were to hear of this, to know that you have made it here to warn the Commander. I will start to quietly gather up our warriors to arms to come with us to Luna's aid, and I will double the watch on Saka, to make sure that no spies enter her presence to warn her. You can stay with me, so that none will find you and recognize you, until _heda_ returns. I know that she wishes to speak with y-"

"No," you cut Indra off, the word slipping from your mouth without your consent, though you do not regret it. Indra frowns at your response, but you ignore the confusion in her eyes. "No," you repeat, softer this time. "I can't stay, Indra. The longer I'm here, the more chance that there is for me to be recognized and I need to get back to Luna. _You_ can tell the Commander what I've told you and she can make her decision and send a scout with her answer to our camp."

"You do not wish to speak with her," Indra comments quietly, more a statement than a question, though there is little emotion in her voice.

"No, I do not," you respond, your voice tight as you hold the older woman's curious gaze. "But that isn't why I won't stay. I just need to get back. The Boat people are not equipped for this kind of war, they are a more peaceful people than the _Trikru_ and I'm needed there. Luna needs me there."

Indra eyes you curiously at your soft words before slowly inclining her head in acknowledgement. She nods her head towards the exit and you breathe an inaudible sigh of relief as you turn to leave with Indra on your heels.

"I will escort you to the gates," Indra murmurs as she walks beside you, climbing the stone stairs to exit the arena. "I will have a fresh horse prepared for you and I will bring your mount with us when we come to your aid."

You nod your head in thanks, though you cannot stop the next words that slip from your lips. "You can't be sure that the Commander will help us. Her wife is the daughter of the _Azgeda_ Queen, after all."

"She will," Indra's reassuring words are soft but firm and you turn your head to catch her surprisingly soft eyes as she stares back at you. "She will come."

You turn your head away from the older woman, feeling your heart lodge firmly in your throat at the hidden meaning behind Indra's words that sound loudly in your ears, nevertheless.

 _She will come. For you._


	2. Chapter 2

_did you have to do this/i was thinking that you could be trusted/did you have to ruin what was shining and now it's all rusted/did you have to hit me where i'm weak/baby, i couldn't breathe/and rub it in so deep/salt in the wound like you're laughing right at me_

 _did you think we'd be fine/still got scars on my back from your knife/so don't think it's in the past/these kinds of wounds/they last and they last/now did you think it all through/all these things will catch up to you/and time can heal/but this wont/so if you're coming my way/just don't_

 _'cause baby, now we got bad blood_

 _taylor swift - bad blood_

You've barely reached the top of the stairs that lead down into the pits when you hear the faint sound of a horn, coming from the direction of the towering gates of Polis. You barely pay attention to it, so lost in your own thoughts of returning to your clan, though you do notice Indra's slight stiffening at your side as you pass through the gates and back into the streets of the city. You throw her a questioning look, but she doesn't even spare you a glance as she strides confidently down the alleyway, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

You step out onto the main street, your eyes scanning the dirt and old cracked cement road thoughtlessly, noticing the people that are spilling out onto the street. Your spine becomes rigid beneath the multitude of eyes that land on you, but you keep your head held high as you walk towards the entrance of the city, ignoring the whispers that follow you.

 _Clarke,_ you hear them whisper your name, over and over as they watch you with a mixture of awe and fear. _Klark kom Skaikru, Destroyer of the Maunon, Bringer of Death._

 _My legacy,_ you think bitterly. _Death, death, death._

"Sky girl," Indra mutters into the silence between you, briefly catching your attention as you near the gates, where people are now crowded around the opening. You catch a glimpse of horses being led away in your peripheral vision, but you think nothing of it as you turn your head to meet the older woman's gaze.

She meets your eyes and the emotion in her dark orbs confuses you, a mixture of sympathy and pity. People are bumping into you from all sides and you stumble to a stop as a child slams hard into your knees and you tear your eyes away from Indra to look down. The young boy looks up at you with wide, almond colored eyes before muttering a quick apology and scrambling away. When you look up at Indra again, the older woman is no longer watching at you, but instead her eyes are focused intently on the gates.

That's when the noise that surrounds you begins to filter in and your entire body stiffens at the shouts that echo in your ears.

 _"Heda! Heda! Heda!"_

You turn your head, feeling as if the world is moving in slow motion, and notice that the crowds of people that had been blocking your path have moved back to form two long lines of cheering walls on either side of the street. Your horrified gaze is unhindered as you look up the road, to find a small party striding quickly in your direction, with a regal figure in the lead.

The world tilts and spins and your breaths come hard and fast, and you were expecting this but it's still too soon, years too soon to see her again. You want to run; you want to run away as fast as your feet will carry you but you _can't move_. Your veins are filled with ice and your limbs are frozen in place and your heart is clenching so violently in your chest that you fear it might shatter at any moment.

The commander is moving closer and closer with every second that passes and you will your body to move, but it's unwilling and shit, you can just make out Lexa's face now as she glances in your direction. She's wearing a tight fitting pair of black leather pants with a loose black shirt, half covered by armor. Her sword is fitted in its sheath at her hip, where her hand rests casually on the pommel while the other reaches out to grasp the hands of her people that are welcoming her home. She is smiling, soft and warm and loving as she looks at her people and yet somehow restrained, like she doesn't want them to know it.

 _Love is weakness._

"Clarke." Indra's voice whispers, her use of your name enough to snap you from your staring as you turn to gaze at the woman beside you, who watches you with a hint of concern on her otherwise impassive features. Which is strange, so very strange, both the use of your name and the concern, but you're in no state of mind to consider it further.

She probably thinks you're about to have a mental break down in the middle of the street, which isn't so far from the truth, you think, but you won't. It's been _six fucking years,_ and goddamnit, you _have_ moved on.

(you haven't. you haven't moved on at all.)

"I'm fine," you manage to say, your voice hoarse and so strangled that it doesn't even sound human, as you feel your heart slamming in your chest, desperate to escape. Your stomach is twisting uncomfortably in your abdomen and when you close your eyes briefly, you see flashes of Lexa's face, eyes streaked with warpaint and blood covering every other inch of her.

You see bodies, burnt from radiation, mouths open in silent screams and eyes forever unseeing.

" _Clarke."_ Indra hisses, a warning, causing your eyes to blink blearily open, just in time to watch as the warrior drops reverently to one knee, her head bowed in respect. " _Heda._ "

"Indra." The voice is familiar and smooth, almost emotionless but for the hint of warmth that curls around the name. It pierces your very soul, leaving you frozen and unable to move for what feels like years, though in truth is only bare moments.

You turn your head slowly, feeling as if your skull weighs a thousand pounds, finally meeting the somewhat curious green gaze that is resting on you.

 _Double fuck,_ you manage to think, before your mind goes completely blank with the shock of standing there, in front of Lexa, after so many years.

Lexa looks almost exactly the same, all perfect high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, with no mark of time on her skin to show the years that have passed since you last saw her. It's been four years since you last caught a glimpse of her, in this very city, and another two since the night she betrayed you and she looks _exactly the same._

There is no slump to her shoulders to show the weight of the world that she carries on her back, no visible scars that show the pain that has been inflicted upon her, no shadows in her eyes to show the things that haunt her. She stands tall and regal and so very beautiful, so _fucking_ strong and it _hurts_ because it's all so fucking _unfair._

She is so unaffected and you, you are so very broken, still.

And Lexa is just staring at you, _staring, staring, always staring at you_ , with her lips slightly parted and her green- _so very green-_ eyes wide. She is a mirror image of what you imagine to be your own expression, blank except for the overwhelming shock that has turned your body to stone. She looks as if she's seen a ghost and you think it's not far from the truth.

You hear a familiar sharp voice speak inside your head, followed by the phantom smack from the flat of a blade against the back of your thighs, which finally forces you into motion.

 _"Remember your place, Clarke."_

You give in to the shaking in your knees and let your legs collapse beneath you, dropping gracelessly to kneel in the middle of the road by Indra's silent form. You let your head drop forward in a show of respect, staring at the ground sightlessly. " _Heda."_

" _Clarke?"_

You feel surprisingly numb as you kneel on the ground, with a thousand gazes piercing you but only one that burns and burns and burns your skin. Lexa's shocked voice saying your name is enough to send an unpleasant shiver down your spine, but you repress it as you remain in your bowed position, unable to move. You don't really _want_ to move, don't want to look up, don't want to face reality.

Don't want to face Lexa, who is standing a few feet away, still just staring at you.

You wonder where all your anger has gone, where that liquid fire that seems to constantly burn through your veins has disappeared to, replaced by this cold numbness. God, you _want_ to be angry, you _should_ be furious, but you don't feel anything except for a hollow ache in your chest where your heart used to be.

You hear more than feel Indra move beside you, followed by a surprisingly gentle hand hooking beneath your arm and pulling you effortlessly to your feet. Your lock your knees into place for fear of falling and send a brief, grateful glance at Indra who is staring back at you silently. You honestly don't think you would have been able to stand on your own.

You turn your head back towards the Commander, almost taking a step backwards in surprise at the distance that has rapidly diminished between you. Lexa stands now within touching distance, her wide green eyes filling your vision as you hold her wondering gaze and you fight the urge to tear your eyes away from her intense stare.

(you remember days and nights passed in the confines of her tent, years ago, where personal space was a foreign concept between the two of you. you remember the heat of her body, trapped between yours and her desk. you remember the feeling of her warm breath on your neck as she looked at maps from over your shoulder. you remember her lips, so soft, so unexpectedly gentle, pressed against yours. you remember. you remember everything.

you forget for a moment that this is now and that was then and nothing is the same.)

Another phantom hand smacks sharply on the back of your head, followed by the same voice that had pushed you into action earlier. _"Remember your place, Clarke. Act accordingly to your position."_

"Commander." You finally manage to choke out the title, sticking out your arm in short, mechanical movements. Lexa looks torn between throttling you and embracing you and you are grateful when instead she slowly reaches forward to grip your forearm in the way of her people.

You try to ignore the almost painful shock of electricity that courses up your arm at the contact. You grit your teeth against it and drop the hold as soon as respectfully possible.

"Clarke of the Sky People," Lexa murmurs reverently, causing that small shiver down your spine, part nostalgia, part pure rage for the way the woman's lips form your name. Like no time has passed, like this is an everyday occurrence, like she never left you at the bottom of a mountain to die.

Thoughts of the mountain are enough to slide your walls efficiently back into place and you feel your spine stiffening instinctually as your face becomes an emotionless mask. You remind yourself that you are no longer the girl that stood outside the mountain alone, remind yourself to lock those memories and thoughts back inside that box inside your chest, remind yourself that Lexa betrayed you. She _betrayed you._

You remember that this is now and not back then and nothing is the same, especially you.

You're not the same and Lexa is nothing to you now; she's just a girl, the commander of the twelve clans, a married woman.

(not the girl that spoke so softly of her lost first love, not the girl you once trusted and whom trusted you in return, not the girl who would sometimes look at you so softly, like she wished she could be your whole world, not the girl who kissed you like you were hers.)

( _not everyone, not you.)_

 _(not yet. not yet. not yet.)_

You wonder briefly if the Lexa that you used to know ever really existed at all.

" _Heda."_ Indra says finally, still standing proud at your side, a godsend really. "There is urgent news from the coast."

Her words are enough to snap you back fully into consciousness, enough to finally tear your gaze from that of the commander's. You exchange a glance with Indra and nod your head in silent thanks.

"Does it require my attention immediately?" Lexa asks, and you can still see her in your peripheral vision, still staring at your profile intensely, as if afraid you'll disappear if she looks away. You would if you could, you think.

" _Sha, Heda,"_ Indra says, though her tone is somewhat apologetic as she glances between the two of you. "It is of utmost importance, I assure you."

"Very well," the commander says, as she finally takes her gaze off you to glance at her captain and you feel the breath that you didn't know you were holding slowly escape your lungs in the absence of her stare. "We will discuss it now, in the war room at my home. Will you join us, Clarke? There is much that I wish to discuss with you."

The words sound more like a command than an offer but you are resolute as you shake your head. "No. I'm not staying."

You can feel Lexa's gaze burning into you and it takes all of your effort to meet her slightly narrowed eyes. She seems to be considering what to say, and you want nothing more than to move past her and walk out of the gates, but your legs are still frozen in place.

"You should stay." It's Indra's voice that breaks the heavy silence, causing you to swing your head around to gaze disbelievingly at the other woman. She stares back at you unapologetically as she delivers her next words. "You know more information than I can provide on this matter and _Heda_ will need every piece of information available to make a plan."

You narrow your eyes angrily at the dark skinned woman, receiving a thin smirk in response and you forget about every bit of gratefulness you felt for this woman since you entered the city.

"Come, Clarke." Lexa's says softly as she gestures for you to follow her towards the large white building that stands in the distance. "It seems that there is more for us to discuss than I thought."

You walk down the main street of Polis, a few steps behind Lexa with Indra striding at your side, silently seething.

You had known that this would happen, had prepared yourself to face the commander again after so many years. It had been expected and yet, when you had reached the gates only to hear that the commander wasn't in Polis, you had begun to hope. You had begun to hope for the first time in days that you could put off your inevitable meeting with Lexa. You had known that it wasn't indefinite, that you would surely see her when she brought her army to the coast, but it was time, time that you so desperately needed.

And yet now here you are, your plans of a quick escape foiled by the commander's betraying captain.

It takes only a few minutes to reach the commander's home, minutes that pass by far too quickly for your liking, before the towering white building is looming above you. You watch as Lexa hurriedly climbs the white stone steps that lead to a large door, with Indra following behind her, but you pause as you reach the first step, hesitating.

"Clarke?" Lexa calls to you, her voice soft and questioning as she stands in front of the door, with her hand resting on the handle.

You shake your head, taking a step back from the building. "I can't."

Lexa raises an expressive eyebrow at your words and you fight the urge to stamp your foot at her confused expression.

"I can't go in there," you say again, your voice pleading, glancing to Indra, whose dark eyes widen in realization before narrowing.

" _Saka,"_ she whispers the name, her eyes now darting around the porch on which they stand, her hand tightening around the pommel of her sword, while Lexa continues to gaze confusedly.

"Saka?" Lexa questions, as if she doesn't know the woman of whom you speak, as if she isn't married to her, to the enemy. A frown mars her forehead as she glances from Indra before her eyes land heavily on you.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and instead turn to Indra. "Indra, please. If she sees me..." You let your words trail off, feeling your fingers twitch at the thought of coming face to face with the _Azgeda prisa._

" _Heda,"_ Indra finally murmurs, lowering her voice and stepping closer to the commander. "It would be unwise of us to speak of this inside your home. We must move this meeting to somewhere without prying ears."

Lexa doesn't understand, that much is obvious, since you've given her no reason to, but you have to be grateful for the way she nods without question and steps off the porch, leading you across the road to where a line of slightly larger buildings resides. She opens the door to one of them, moving inside and you follow behind her and into a sunlit room with Indra at your back.

The building turns out to be a library of sorts, with floor to ceiling bookshelves that line that walls and leave your mouth gaping. There is a long wooden table down the center of the room, which is filled with one other single occupant that looks up in surprise at your sudden entrance.

" _Bants."_ Lexa commands sharply, sending the man scurrying from the room, with his head bowed, leaving a scattering of parchments behind on the table.

And then the room is silent, except for the sounds of three people breathing.

"Explain." Lexa says, spinning around to face you with her arms crossed over her armor encased chest. Her green eyes are slightly narrowed, and only narrow further when you share a silent glance with Indra. Lexa's face is expressionless as she stares at you but her eyes are filled with emotion as you meet her gaze evenly before tilting your head towards Indra. "Tell her."

" _Heda,"_ Indra turns to speak to the commander after giving you a reproachful look, though those green eyes never stray from your face. "The Sky princess arrived mere hours ago, sent here by command of _Luna kom Floukru-"_

" _Luna?"_ The commander asks, turning her head rapidly to face Indra before turning her shocked gaze back to you. "You've been with _Luna,_ all this time?"

You suddenly understood the furious look on the commanders face and closed your eyes briefly in remembrance. _Ah, fuck._

You know that your people had searched for you after you left Camp Jaha, more than six years ago. You had heard whispers of the _skaikru_ in the woods, searching for their leader, while you passed through villages like a ghost.

And the _Skaikru_ hadn't been the only ones looking for you, you remember.

"Not _all_ this time," you mutter, almost petulantly. "Only the past four years."

" _Heda,"_ Indra quickly cuts into the conversation, sensing the impending argument that was beginning to rise, if only from the look of anger and betrayal on the commander's face. "Clarke came to us with urgent news. The _Floukru_ have been under attack for the entire winter and they are in need of our aid, immediately."

You watched as the commander's face tightens with anger, turning her head to face Indra with narrowing eyes. "What?"

"The city of the Boat People has been under siege for the past three months," you say, turning Lexa's shocked and angry gaze back onto yourself, unwillingly. "We have fought them off as best as we've been able, but our numbers dwindle while those of the enemy grow stronger. Luna sent me to request for your help, Commander."

Lexa's green eyes are wide with shock as she stares at you, before she slowly turns around and lays her hands flat on the table behind her. Minutes pass in silence as the commander stares down, unseeingly at the wooden surface beneath her hands before she finally speaks.

"Who?" She says softly, her back tense with anger. "Who attacks the coastal city?"

You glance at Indra who stands by your side, sharing a worried look before you look back at the commander's stiff form.

" _Azgeda."_ Indra says.

"Ice Nation." You murmur.

You wish you felt no sympathy at the way Lexa's shoulders seem to crumble at the name.

The silence in the room is thick and heavy, threatening to suffocate you as you stare at Lexa's back. The other woman seems to crumble in on herself, even as her shoulders remain tense and her back rigid with the weight of all the worlds that she carries. You feel a moment of sympathy for her, for this new stab of betrayal that weighs on her so heavily, but it passes quickly at the thought of your own scars that you carry on your back.

 _Scars from the commander's knife._

"Indra." Lexa finally speaks, with her back still turned towards you. "Leave us."

The dark skinned woman doesn't hesitate, merely nodding her head before turning to leave the building. The door shuts quietly behind her, but the sound echoes in your head with a sense of foreboding as you are left alone with the commander.

"Why is it," Lexa begins softly, her voice so quiet that you unconsciously lean forward to hear it. "That I'm always faced with these kinds of choices where you are concerned, Clarke?"

Your back stiffens at the rhetorical questions and you clench your jaw, saying nothing, though you know that Lexa doesn't expect you to. The words stab at you, not unexpectedly, since you know what choice that Lexa is referring to and the choice she made still hurts, even after all this time.

( _i made this choice with my head and not my heart. i'm sorry, clarke.)_

"It's a hard decision," you finally say, your voice thick and loud in the thundering silence. Lexa actually laughs, _laughs,_ at your words, and you don't think you've ever heard her laugh before, though there is no humor to the cold sound.

"A hard decision?" Lexa asks, disbelievingly, finally lifting her hands from the table and turning around to catch your gaze. "To choose between you and my _wife_?"

The way she is staring at you, _always staring at you,_ feels like a knife to the gut, but you continue to stand tall as you hold her gaze evenly.

"No," you answer coldly, your voice like ice. " _I_ am no part of this choice. It is between the _floukru_ and _azgeda_ you must choose."

It is not entirely truthful, since you consider the Boat People your own and while you are not exactly one of them, you _are._ But you know that Lexa has a hard choice to make, you know what you are asking from her on behalf of Luna and you know that none of this is easy. You won't hold her decision against her. Not this time.

"Are you sure it's _azgeda?"_ Lexa finally asks, her voice almost a plea, begging you to deny it, but you can't.

"We are certain," you answer stiffly. "We captured many of their warriors and our means of confession were quite... persuasive. They follow the commands of _Asha kom Azgeda._ "

You feel briefly sick at the remembrance of your blade carving through flesh, of screams ringing in your ears, but you push the thoughts away for another time. You did what you had to do.

"Your wife may not know of her mother's betrayal," you finally say, though you are unsure of why you offer the words, since you don't believe them yourself, and by the look on Lexa's face, neither does she.

The weight of Lexa's gaze is heavy on your skin as you glance around the room, wanting nothing more than to leave. You wish to return to the coast, back to your people and back to Luna, but you're waiting for an answer. You do not want to be here in this city, in this room with Lexa, the one person in the world that you had hoped you would never see again.

"I thought you were dead." Lexa's voice says softly, and it's enough to make you turn your head back to meet her surprisingly soft eyes. They run all over your face, as if memorizing every inch of it and it sends an unwelcome tingle through your limbs.

"I'm not," you reply, because what else is there to say? You could tell her about all the years in which you had wished that you were. You could tell her about all the nights you sat with the muzzle of your gun against your temple, unable to pull the trigger with your shaking fingers. You could tell her of the ghosts that followed you from the mountain, the ones that haunted you, day and night. You could tell her about all the times you cried, over the blood on your hands, over the people that you left behind, over _Lexa,_ but you don't.

You had wanted to tell her all these things once, wanted her to know the pain that she caused you, the way you had nightmares about her leaving you on that mountain, for years. You wanted to tell her everything once, but not anymore.

"You have been with Luna," Lexa continues and it sounds just like the accusation you know it is.

"Yes," you answer simply, because you try not to lie anymore.

"You must hold much power over her if you made her disobey a direct command from her _heda,"_ Lexa murmurs almost casually, though the words and the meaning behind them are anything but. You bristle at the words, narrowing your eyes at the other woman.

"Luna merely respected my wishes," you say tightly, as you feel anger begin to bubble in your abdomen, so very welcome. You're used to feeling angry and you know the burn swirling in the pit of your stomach intimately. _Hello, my old friend._ "I did not want to be found. _"_

 _Especially by you,_ the words are not spoken but they hang heavily in the air nonetheless.

"So you let your people think you dead?" Lexa questions sharply as her hand grips the pommel of her sword so tightly that her knuckles whiten in moments. "You let your own _mother_ think you dead?"

It's too much. You snap.

"Don't you talk about her," you snarl, taking a menacing step towards the other woman, until you are so close you can feel her breath brush against your cheek. She's pressed between your body and the wooden table behind her and this moment is so familiar that it almost makes you lose your breath. "Don't you _dare_ speak about my mother to me. She is alive because of me and it's no thanks to you, _natrona._ "

Lexa looks as if you've slapped her, her jaw going slack at the jab before it clenches so hard the muscle bulges visibly in her jaw. "It has been six years since the Mountain, Clarke. The _skaikru_ have forgiven me for the choice that I made in return for our returned alliance."

The news of the alliance between _skaikru_ and _trikru_ is not new to you, but it hurts all the same.

"Yeah," you mutter bitterly. "But _I_ haven't."

Lexa merely sighs at your words, the fight seeming to drain from her body in a matter of moments, while you are left feeling battered and bruised by the brief verbal sparring. Her gaze is sad as she looks at you and it's too much, so you turn your head away, blinking against the unwelcome burn in your eyes.

 _Let it go,_ Luna's voice whispers in your mind. _Stop fighting, Clarke._

You feel some of the tension leave your body as you unclench your fists, letting your shoulders droop beneath the heavy weight on your shoulders, if only for a moment.

"Make you choice, Commander," you finally say, turning away from the other woman and heading towards the door, needing to put some space between you. "I leave for the coast at nightfall."


	3. Chapter 3

_so, leave me in the cold/wait until the snow covers me up/so i cannot move/so i'm just embedded in the frost/and leave me in the rain/wait until my clothes cling to my frame/wipe away your tearstains/thought you said you didn't feel pain_

 _'cause this is dangerous/the electricity between both of us/and this is dangerous/'cause i want you so much/but i hate your guts/i hate you_

 _daughter - landfill_

It is of no surprise to you that out of all of the places that you could go in Polis, you find yourself in a tavern.

It's one of the smaller establishments, a few streets away from the main square, though the size means nothing to the people that are crowded inside, spilling out onto the small porch and surrounding small tables covered in cups and mugs of all sizes. It's a lively place, with rowdy warriors clustered around the sunlit room and farmers seated around roughly made tables, talking about the next harvest.

It's still a time of peace for these people, you think sadly, peace that that has lasted for almost six years since the mountain was brought down. And now you're back, bringing a war right to their door.

 _Bringer of death,_ you think bitterly. It's not so far from the truth now, since the first time you heard it. Death seems to follow you everywhere, ever since you stepped foot on the ground.

You push through the sweaty crowds of people, without a single person taking a second glance at your face, which is exactly what you wanted. You have always found a semblence on anonimisity in taverns, where the people are fuzzy with drink and faces and names mean nothing. You are nobody here, and the only difference between you and the people of Polis is your shining blonde hair, which earns you a few brief appreciative glances but nothing more.

The only person who seems to know you for who you truly are is the female bartender of sorts, who pauses briefly while she's pouring a drink to stare right at you. Her hair is midnight black and her eyes are a soft brown as she lets them flit briefly over your face, before she slides a full mug down the bar to you without more than a tilt of her head. You pick it up with an acknowledging nod of your own and take a sip, letting the warm grounder mead wash down your throat with a welcoming burn.

" _Klark kom skaikru,_ " the woman over the bar murmurs, once she's finished pouring drinks and has moved to stand across from you. She rests her forearms against the wooden counter, directly across from you, and leans in close so that she can be heard easily over the noise of the tavern occupants. "It is an honor."

"You recognise me," you say in return, before lifting the mug in your hand. " _Mochof."_

 _"Pro,"_ the woman returns with a small smile. "And yes, I recognise you. I will never forget the first face I saw when I stepped outside the Mountain."

Your hand pauses with your drink half way to your mouth before you let the mug drop heavily back onto the table, knowing you will be unable to swallow with the lump in your throat, slowly suffocating you. "You were inside the Mountain?"

"For more than six months," the woman replies, her brown eyes as haunted as your own, you finally notice. "Six months that they had me locked inside a cage like an animal, six months that they bled me almost dry. I owe you much."

"You owe me nothing," you say, shaking your hand and clenching your hands to keep them from shaking. "It was your _heda_ that saved you."

 _Your heda that saved you, by leaving me to die._

"Yes," the woman agrees easily. "I owe _heda_ my life, but it was not her who tore down the Mountain, it was you. Even after escaping, I was plauged with fear and horrible dreams of the Mountain, so much so that I thought I would lose my mind. When word reached me of what you did, I slept easy for the first time in months. I owe you much, _Klark kom skaikru._ "

" _Pro,"_ you finally manage to say, your voice a broken whisper. _You're welcome._

 _You slept easy for the first time in months, while I will never sleep easy again for what I have done._

(i bear it so they don't have to.)

The woman looks as if she wants to say more, but her eyes flick away from your face and over your shoulder and you feel your entire body tighten at the expression that flashes across her face. The bartender bows her head as you feel the heat of a body press up behind you in the cramped quarters of the tavern, before the woman moves away to the other end of the counter.

You finish the rest of your drink in a few large gulps, lump in your throat be damned, and wish desperately that the woman would come back to refill it.

"I have never known you to be one for heavy drinking, Clarke." The Commander says as she moves into the space beside you, letting her elbow rest casually on the counter.

"You don't know me at all," you reply bluntly, so much easier now that you aren't looking at her, instead fixing your eyes firmly on the stained wood beneath your hands.

"No," Lexa murmurs in response and even though you aren't looking at her, you _won't,_ you can feel her eyes on you all the same. "I suppose I do not."

The barely repressed sadness in the other woman's voice is almost, _almost,_ enough to make you look up, but you are saved when another mug slides down the counter, stopping to rest right next to your hand. You look up briefly to receive a sly wink from the dark haired woman behind the counter and you stifle a grin as you pick up the mug and take a sip.

"You are making friends fast," Lexa comments lightly and you shrug your shoulders heavily in response, the alcohol loosening your body and your tongue.

"In a city full of enemies, you need to have some friends," you answer, finally turning your head to fix the other woman with your hard gaze. She looks at place in the middle of the tavern, slouched against the counter top, though she still maintains her air of confidence and regality, dressed as she is in her polished half armor and blood red cape. Her face remains emotionless at your words, though she tilts her head slightly as she considers you.

"Is that what I am to you now, Clarke?" She asks, her voice low and barely audible in the loud tavern, dangerous and inviting, simultaneously. "An enemy?"

"Well, you certainly aren't a friend," you say, the words somewhat bitter on your tongue. You wash the taste of 'not you' and 'not yet' away with another mouthful of mead.

(you were never friends, after all. equals, maybe, something _more_ , but never friends.)

You finish your drink in the silence that follows your words, the strength of the alcohol making your head spin. Mead is not a common drink on the coast, unless Luna brings back a barrel or two from her trips to Polis, whom you know favours it. Your people tend to sway more towards wine, made from the grapes that grow in the vineyards that surround the boat people's city and you never normally drink enough to get you anything more than slightly tipsy, at least not for several years.

"We need to learn to make this," you murmur the words outloud, unknowingly, as you look down into the bottom of your empty cup. "This is the good shit."

"I can arrange for some to be brought with us to the coast," Lexa answers you unexpectedly, causing you to snap suddenly from your thoughts. "I am sure that Luna would appreciate it."

You open your mouth to answer that yes, Luna would definetely appreciate it, when the meaning behind Lexa's words hits you with full force. You look up to find the other woman watching you intently, her eyes searching your face, though her expression still remains impassive. You, on the other hand, feel as if all of the air has suddenly rushed out of your lungs, leaving you breathless.

"So, you're coming, then?" You finally manage to ask, with your heart pounding in your chest.

Lexa tilts her head at your words, pursing her lips before nodding. "Of course."

 _Of course,_ you think, feeling your heart thud in relief. _Of course,_ she says, like it hadn't even been a question, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Like she hadn't left you standing in the cold once before, while she turned her back on you and your people when you needed her the most.

 _Of fucking course._

 _"Mochof,"_ You manage to choke out, both ridiculously relieved and infinitely bitter. " _Mochof, heda."_

You're suddenly overwhelmed with the information that the commander is actually bringing her army to _help._ It hits you with an urgency that over one hundred miles away, your people were still fighting, while you were just _sitting here._

You stand up suddenly from your chair, your alcohol induced jelly legs almost dropping you to the floor as you swayed unsteadily for a moment. Lexa reached out as if to steady you, but you hold your hands up almost defensively at the action, causing her to pull back as if burned from your rejection. You ignore the unexpected look of hurt that flashes briefly across her face as you steady yourself on your own.

"Okay," you finally say with a firm nod. "Okay, I need to go."

Your turn on your heel to leave and this time, Lexa _does_ reach out and grab you, her strong fingers wrapping around your forearm and holding you in place. "No."

"No?" You ask indignantly, even as you wrench your arm from the other woman's grip, ignoring the lingering burn left from her fingertips pressed against your skin. "What do you mean, _no?_ "

"I mean exactly what I said, Clarke," Lexa answers. "I have informed my people to be ready to leave for the coast at first light and I have sent out messengers to the clans closest to join us in the fight, but _you_ are not leaving this city until my people are ready to join you, tomorrow."

" _What?"_ You hiss, your eyes narrowing in anger. "No! I need to leave now, you don't understand!"

"I _do_ understand, Clarke," Lexa responded, her face impassive but her eyes burning. "I do, but that is my one condition. You are _not_ leaving this city without me."

You don't think that you've ever felt a stronger urge to hit the commander in the face, but you let the anger slowly ebb from your tense muscles as you stare at the other woman's resolute expression. You are fighting a losing battle and as stubborn as you are, you know when you have lost.

"You test my self control," you finally say after several minutes of silence, almost cringing at the double meaning to your words when Lexa settles into an almost smug expression.

"I am sorry, Clarke," Lexa says, not sounding sorry at all. "Now, come, I've had a room prepared for you at my home, where you can rest until it is time for us to leave."

Lexa moves past you and sweeps from the tavern, obviously expecting you to follow her, which you know you will, but not until after you've turned around to face the woman behind the bar.

"Hey," you say, giving her your most winning smile. "Is there any way that I can get some of this sent to the commander's home?"

/

As it turns out, you certainly _can_ have some of the grounder mead brought to the commander's home. An entire barrel of it, in fact.

Apparently your name has more sway in Polis than you'd ever expected.

You follow a few paces behind Lexa through the city streets, chatting casually with one of the tavern workers who carries the barrel of mead in his brawny arms as if it weighs nothing. The sky is slowly beginning to darken and you enjoy the cool breeze as it blows against your overheated skin, answering the young man's questions about the coast as you make your journey to the commander's home.

"I have only seen the ocean one time," the man, _Toren,_ says in stilted English as walks beside you. "It was a far journey from here, across the dead zone, and it was very nice. The sand was black and the sea was grey; is that what it is like where you live?"

"I've seen the beaches you speak of, from across the dead zone," you answer with a small smile, ignoring the curious look that Lexa throws you from over her shoulder. "They are very beautiful, but the beaches that surround the _floukru's_ city are different. The sand is golden and it sparkles in the sunlight and the water is very, very blue."

"Like your eyes?" Toren questions shyly, glancing at you from the corner of his own, dark eyes and you laugh.

"I've had my eyes compared to the ocean there before, yes," you reply with a grin. " _A clear, vibrant blue, like the calm ocean, with sunlight sparkling on the surface."_

"Your bonded's words?" Toren asks politely with a grin of his own. "He sounds like a... a charming?"

You laugh loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls that surround you as you gently shake your head. "I am not bonded," you answer with a chuckle. "But yes, _she_ is a charmer."

You feel suddenly very sober when you find yourself outside of the commander's home, all pristine white marble. You swallow as you follow Lexa up the steps and onto the porch, hesitating as your blue eyes glance towards the open windows, that let the cool night breeze into the building.

"She is not here," Lexa murmurs quietly, for only you to hear, as she opens the front door and beckons you inside. You fight a wince that the commander was able to read you so easily and slip past her, careful not to touch, into the expanse of her home.

A grand staircase is situated right before you, made of the same white marble as the floor, but covered with animal skins. The walls are white, what you can see of them, as they are covered with artworks from the old world and weapons and masks, enough that you think you could spends days walking through these halls, studying every piece for hours. There is equisite, carefully made wooden furniture and you catch a glimpse of an overflowing bookshelf as Lexa waves Toren away to another room with the mead.

"Come, Clarke," Lexa says, already halfway up the staircase as you continue to look around in wonder. "I will show you to your room."

You follow Lexa up two flights of stairs, onto the third floor, where she leads you down a wide hallway, right to the end. There are two doors, situated across from each other, and Lexa opens the one on the left without a word, gesturing you inside.

The room is grand; nicer than any you've stayed in, with a large comfortable looking bed, two bedside tables and a large, built in wardrobe, overflowing with someone else's clothes. On the left side of the room, there is an open door that leads to a bathroom, and to the right is a row of floor to ceiling windows, half covered with curtains, and a pair of intricatedly carved double doors that lead onto a balcony overlooking the city.

You feel the soft furs that cover the floor beneath your boots as you step further inside. You can feel Lexa watching you, studying your expression, but you give nothing away as you keep your face emotionless, letting your hand run over the furs that cover the bed.

"You didn't have to do this," you finally say, glancing at a shelf filled to the brim with books. "I could have stayed at the tavern."

"It is not simply for your benefit," Lexa says in response. "You have a habit of disappearing when I do not have my eyes on you and you have information that I still need. Also, I will admit that I am curious, Clarke."

You bite down on all the harsh responses that rise to your lips at the thought of Lexa keeping an eye on you and answer her in a measured tone. "Curious about what?"

"You." Lexa answers simply and you have your back turned to her, but you can imagine the thoughtful expression on her face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the lack of explaination.

"What about me?"

"Why you're here, in particular," Lexa says and her tone is emotionless, but you can feel a certain tension building in the air, nonetheless.

"I told you why I'm here," you finally manage to spit out, your hand clenching unconciously around the dagger at your hip.

"Yes, but why _you?"_ Lexa questions and you can hear her take a step towards you at her words, can almost feel the heat of her body against your skin. "Why would _Luna,_ who happens to be a good friend of mine, send _you_ of all people here? I assume that you have told her of our last meeting and Luna is not a cruel person, so it makes me wonder, Clarke. No one has seen or heard from you in years and suddenly, you show up in my city, alone, what should I think?"

You feel anger building up inside you with every word she says, with the skepticism dripping from her every word and your hand clenches tighter around your blade. It hits you quite suddenly, unexpectedly, exactly what it is that Lexa is thinking, and the knowledge is enough for you to finally _let go._

You whirl around gracefully, slipping your dagger from it's shealth as Lexa takes a surprised step backwards at your sudden movement. You follow her, reaching up to press the silver of your blade against the tanned skin of her throat as your other hand grips the back of her neck, holding her in place. You are so close, _so close,_ that you can practically feel the air escape from the space in front of you as Lexa drags it into her mouth in a small, surprised gasp. Her green eyes are focused on yours, her pink lips parted as she stares back at you and the air is thick and heavy as you take in the sight of her, with your dagger pressed firmly against her neck.

"You think this is why I'm here?" You finally whisper into the small space between you, feeling the movement against your knife as Lexa swallows. Your hand pulls back instinctively as the movement pushes your blade further into skin, pulling away before blood can bead onto its surface before pushing back once more. "You think that I've waited _six fucking years,_ for this moment?"

Lexa's tongue briefly slips out to lick her parted lips and your eyes follow the movement, before glancing back up into Lexa's intense gaze. "Have you?"

You stare back at her, hard and cold, but you feel none of the anger that you directed at her for so many years. You feel nothing.

You drop the knife.

"Don't get me wrong," you finally say as you take a step backwards, sheathing the blade back at your waist. "I used to dream about my hands wrapped around your throat, all the time, and there were even a few times today that I would have liked to shove my dagger into your black excuse for a heart, but I would never actually _do it._ "

"No?" Lexa asks, still standing in the middle of your room so casually, as if you hadn't just had a knife pressed against her throat. You shake your head.

"Even after everything," you finally sigh, part sad and part anger at yourself as you turn to face the window. "I never wanted you _dead,_ Lexa."

You expect her to say something, something so incredibly _Lexa,_ about how that was weakness, or equally annoying, but she doesn't. Again, not for the first time this day, she surprises you.

"I thought _you_ were," she finally answers, after minutes of silence, and the crack in her voice is enough to make you turn around. She had said this already, earlier, but there had been no emotion behind the words and now, the emotions were written all over her face. Her shoulders were slumped, her arms hanging limply at her sides and her face was all beautiful heartbreak, with glossy green eyes and shadows. "I thought that _you_ were dead, Clarke."

Again, you don't know what to say, especially in the face of all this emotion that you had never expected from Lexa, of all people. So, instead say, stupidly. "I'm right here."

Again, Lexa laughs, and you're starting to store away all these new sounds, because this laugh is different than the last, all heartbreak and pain. It's a broken, beautiful sound and it makes your heart clench unexpectedly.

"Now, perhaps," Lexa says, the words all bitter and hollow. "When I walked away from you at the Mountain, I did it _knowing_ that I was writing you and your people a death sentence, but then you _survived,_ Clarke. You tore down the Mountain and you saved your people and then you were just _gone,_ for _six years_ and no one knew where you were and after months, we all thought you dead. I almost _hoped_ that you would come to Polis to kill me, if only to know that you were _alive."_

You think, somewhere in the swirling darkness that is your mind, that this is easily the most you think that Lexa has spoken all at once, at least to you. You're taken so off guard, that the next words slip from your lips without a second thought, and the moment that do, you wish that you could suck them right back in, if only to erase the shocked, hurt look on Lexa's face.

"I did," you say blankly. "I did come to Polis."

The heavy silence in the room is threatening to choke you, and the words that have slipped from your lips have left you empty and hollow, but none of that compares to the look on Lexa's face. You spent so many years wanting to _hurt_ her, to hurt her the way that she made you hurt, but that had been an entire lifetime ago. You wouldn't lie to yourself and say that you weren't still angry, because you were, sometimes you would remember standing beneath the looming doors of the mountain alone, and you would be so angry and _wrecked,_ that you couldn't even _breathe._

But you weren't that girl anymore, the one consumed by hate and anger, and you didn't want _this;_ Lexa's form seeming to crumple in on itself, right in front of your eyes, her eyes glowing with hurt and betrayal, and swimming with tears you know that won't fall. You never wanted this.

"When?" Lexa finally manages to say, on the whisp of a stuttered breath, the word full of pain.

You think about lying, even if it's only for a second, but you decide against it.

"The night of your bonding," you finally say.

The sound of Lexa's broken, shuttered gasp is too much and you shake your head, turning and fleeing the room as the commander's body crumples behind you, hidden behind the door you close behind yourself.

It's too much that you were never meant to see, making you feel too many things you were never meant to feel.

(as you race down the stairs, you wish that you had never come to polis at all.)

/

Of course, you end up back at the tavern.

The sun has completely set and yet, the city of Polis is bright, lit up with colourful lanterns that light the road and shine different coloured hues on the faces of the people who pass beneath them. Most of the city's residents have returned to their homes and families, but some still wander the streets, talking and laughing with their companions in the city square, others lounging on the soft grass that surrounds a broken fountain.

You slip through alleyways and wander in the shadows, unnoticed by all that you pass, until you round the corner and find bright light shining out of the windows of the tavern, that is even more packed at this hour. It is almost a fight to get inside, since the entrance is so heavily crowded by the men and women that are packed onto the porch, drinking and talking loudly, while some dance on the street outside to music on they can hear. The inside of the tavern is so loud that you can barely hear yourself think, which is perfect, and you let a small smile slip your lips as strangers call to you in greeting, drunk and happy.

" _Wanheda!"_ One man calls as he catches sight of you, causing the group of men and women around him to fall silent, as the title sends a cold chill down your spine. You know that the man is drunk and he says the title with respect, but you've always hated it since the first time you heard it.

 _Commander of death._

"Clarke."

You turn your cold gaze away from the man to find the same woman minding the bar as before and you let the tension drain from your limbs as you offer her a small smile. She gestures to a seat in front of the counter, quickly offered by the man who had been sitting there before and you nod your thanks.

" _Yu don komba raun,"_ the woman says, throwing her black braided her over her shoulder as she pours you a mug of mead. _"No heda?"_

 _"Sha,"_ you answer, earning a slight smile at your understanding of the language. _"En no, heda ste houm."_

The woman hummed in understanding, leaning her elbows against the bar and leaving the other customers to her companion behind the counter. "It is rare for _heda_ to venture here. I admit my surprise upon seeing her earlier, though not much that she came here for you."

"Oh?" You ask, taking several healthy swallows of your drink and feeling the warmth spread through your cold limbs. "Why do you say that?"

"With one so pretty, you would want to keep an eye on her," the woman winked, causing an unexpectedly laugh to rip from your lips, while you simultaneously felt your stomach drop.

"Your _heda_ is bonded," you say, without anger or bitterness, only a small smile, because it is what it is and you raise an eyebrow at the bartender's casual shrug. "There is nothing between her and I."

"Of course," the woman replies easily. "And yet still she sends her personal guard to watch you. Maybe she thinks that I am a danger to you?"

You raise your eyebrow at her words, turning when her eyes flit over your shoulder to find a man seated in the corner of the tavern, watching you intensely. You recognise him after a few moments as Ryder, and you give the warrior a small, sarcastic wave, causing his head to turn away from you in what you suspect is embaressment.

You sigh, turning your face back to the woman's, whose dark eyes are twinkling with laughter and you shake your head with a wry grin. "Well, _are_ you a danger to me...?"

" _Jacqulen."_ The dark haired woman grins slyly, leaning further towards you on the countertop. "And only if that's what you like, _Klark kom Skaikru."_

You laugh at the huskily spoken words and ignore Ryder's eyes, that you can feel burning into you once more.

/

It is late and most of the patrons in the tavern have left, save for a group of warriors that surround a table in the back corner and one other who sits a few paces down the bar from yourself. You've spent the entire night talking to _Jacqulen,_ proceeding to get more and more drunk after every time she refilled your mug and you're pretty sure that you will regret this in the morning, but right now you couldn't care less.

Ryder had left shortly after midnight, tilting his head towards the door for you to follow, but you had waved him off and that had been at least two hours ago. You watch blearily as Jacqulen wipes down the counter, smiling at the soft look she throws you when you lay your heavy head down to rest on your forearm.

"Where are you staying?" She asks you, once she throws the cloth away and you frown, thinking of your room in the commander's home. You aren't sure if you can go back there, not yet, not without remember the way Lexa had looked, hunched over in the middle of the room as if you had mortally wounded her.

"I don't know," you answer, your words more slurred than you expected, though it shouldn't be surprising since you're pretty sure you drank more tonight than you ever have in your life.

Though, if there's any day that you wish that you could forget in the morning, this would definetely be in the top five.

"Well," Jacqulen says, leaning down to rest her head near yours on the countertop. "I would bring you home with me, but I do not think you would remember it in the morning."

"I am sure," you said slowly, making sure to pronounce each word clearly. "That if I went home with you, it would be _unforgettable,_ Jacqulen."

"I am sure that it would," she replied with a grin, her eyes flickering away from yours for a moment before returning. "Though I do not think that we will have the chance to find out."

She moves away from you then, leaving you with a frown marring your brow, which morphs into a groan at the body that steps up behind you and you just _know,_ even before you hear the voice.

"Clarke." You hear your name, that unfortunately familiar way that she says it, rolling off her tongue, soft and warm, clicking the 'k' harshly. There's no one else who says your name like that.

"Commander." You respond formly, despite your current state, unwilling to move from your position, practically on top of the counter. "How nice of you to drop by."

Lexa sighs, as if you've somehow offended and aggreived her. "You are drunk, Clarke."

"Say my name, one more time," you murmur with a grin.

"Clarke," Lexa says again, sighing at your laughter that follows, before moving to stand within your line of vision. "It is time to leave."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, finally lifting your head up to look for the suddenly scarce bartender. "Jacqulen is going to take me home."

"No, she is not," Lexa replies firmly, reaching out to gently pull you from your chair and help you stand, and you're so drunk that you don't even protest. You lean on her solid form heavily as the room spins momentarily, moving sluggishly out of her grasp once you're sure that you can stand on your own. "You will come home with me. I do not think that Luna would be appreciative of you following a stranger home."

You scoff loudly as Lexa ushers you to the door, glancing around one more time for Jacqulen, only to be disappointed when she's no where in sight. "She isn't a stranger and Luna wouldn't care. She'd probably give me a fist bump or some grounder version of it, 'cause Jacqulen is _hot_."

Lexa frowns at your words, but you don't notice, too busy trying to manevere the steps that lead up to the tavern. It's not until you're halfway down the street, with Lexa's fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist to keep you upright, that the other woman finally speaks.

"I thought that she was your mate," Lexa finally says, her green eyes searching your face as you stare back at her in confusion. "Luna."

"My _mate?"_ You say the word with disgust, raising an eyebrow at the other woman, who shrugs her shoulders in response. "You make us sound like animals."

"Your lover, then." Lexa prompts, to which you shrug your own shoulders.

"I mean, she _is,"_ You say, before frowning. "I mean, sometimes, she is. She's my friend and my lover but I'm not her chosen or anything and there have been other people. We're in an open relationship, I guess?"

Lexa is frowning heavily at your explaination, as if an open relationship is something unheard of to her, which it could be, you guess, though, in the boat people city, it was certainly a common occurance. It had been something you knew that your mother would surely have frowned upon when Luna first explained it to you, but the _freedom_ of it had been something you desired.

"Is that uncommon around here?" You finally ask, after several minutes of silence, somewhat surprised when Lexa shakes her head.

"No," she answers. "It is just not something that I ever thought that _you_ would be comfortable with."

The words sting you unexpectedly, enough for you to shake off Lexa's touch and avert your eyes to the ground. "I told you, you don't know me, Commander."

"Yes," Lexa comments quietly, as she walks along beside you. "That is becoming increasingly clear to me with every moment that passes, Clarke."

The rest of the walk back to the commander's home is silent.

/

In the morning, when you wake just before dawn, you remember nothing after entering the tavern, except Jacqulen's husky teasing, and you're confused when some strange, small part of you is grateful for it.


	4. Chapter 4

_i remember years ago/someone told me i should take caution when it comes to love/i did/and you were strong and i was not/my illusion, my mistake/i was careless, i forgot/i did/and now when all is done there is nothing to say/you have gone and so efforlessly, you have won/you can go ahead, tell them_

 _falling out of love is hard/falling for betrayal is worse/broken trust and broken hearts/i know, i know/and thinking all you need is there/building faith, oh, nothing worse/empty promises will wear/i know, i know/when all is done, there is nothing to say/and if you're done with embaressing me/on your own, you can go ahead, tell them_

 _tell them all i know now/shout it from the rooftops/right it on the skyline/all we had is gone now/tell them i was happy/and my heart is broken/all my scars are open/tell them what i hoped would be impossible_

 _i remember years ago/someone told me i should take caution when it comes to love/i did_

 _james arthur - impossible_

You wake up just before dawn, blinking heavily in the darkness of your room, with only the slightest hint of light peeking in from the lanterns that line the streets outside. You reach up and press the palms of your hands against your eyes, in a weak attempt to dull the painful throbbing in your skull and to force the memories of last night to play over your closed eyelids, but it's futile. You remember nothing after your second drink at the tavern, other than Jaquelene's husky voice coaxing you easily into conversation as she poured you drink after drink.

You find yourself strangely thankful for this fact, unsure if you want to remember the journey back to the commander's home and what you might have found when you returned.

(you push away the vision of the commander's shoulders crumbling beneath the weight of the world, hear the sound of her black heart cracking through her mouth, opened in a silent cry. you never wanted to see that, never wanted to think of her as a living, breathing, hurting _human._ you had spent the last six years catogorising her as something else; _monster.)_

 _(same as you)_

You slowly roll yourself out of the comfortable bed with a groan, your toes curling into the soft furs beneath your feet as you stand up and stretch. Your muscles pull painfully and your bones groan in complaint and the world tilts and spins for a moment before you regain your vision, shaking your head with a sigh. You pad quietly into the bathroom, searching blindly for a candle until your fingers find a stick of hard wax, which you light carefully with a piece of flint. The bathroom is illuminated in the soft orange glow of candlelight and you make your way over to the porcelain bath, where you test the taps eagerly, delighted when clean water begins to fill the tub.

It's been more than three days since you have been able to do more than wipe your face clean with a rag, so you strip off your clothes in record time and sink into the cool water of the bath with a sigh. You pick up a bar of soap, which smells faintly flowery, before lathering your hands and beginning to wash, knowing that you don't have much time to waste until you will need to join the commander and her army at the gates.

You feel a thrill shoot down your spine at the thought, as you scrub your dirty blonde hair with soap, of returning to your city with an army at your back. You think of all the people you left behind, living, dead and wounded, and scrub your hair faster with a new sense of urgency.

You have wasted too much time already in this horrid city and you're more than ready to return home.

 _I'm coming, Luna._

After rinsing the soap from your hair and body, you empty the bath and wrap a soft towel around your dripping body, glancing briefly at your dirty clothes that rest in a pile on the floor. You shake your head at the dirty leather and continue into your room, where you open the wardrobe and search through the abundant amount of clothes inside. You wonder briefly who they belong to as you settled on a pair of black leather pants which cling to your legs, paired with a flowing, sleeveless white shirt, that you tuck in at the front but leave the soft fabric hanging at the back. The outfit showed off your toned arms, with carefully chosen tattoos curling around your biceps, mostly black, but with hints of dark blue weaved within the dark lines. You throw a padded, black leather vest over your shoulders before you strap your sword into the sheath on your back and attatch your many daggers upon your person, giving yourself a glance in the mirror on your way out of the room and nodding in approval.

You're still redoing the last of the braids in your hair as you trot down the last flight of stairs, where you find Lexa waiting with a small group of warriors, Indra and Ryder included, standing by the front door.

"Clarke," Lexa greets you as you come to a stop before them, letting your fingers drop from your hair as the commander's eyes rake over your form with a hint of surprise. She's looking at you as if you're a completely different person and you suppose it's not far from the truth.

"Commander," you return stiffly, clasping your hands behind your back and standing tall, while wondering if you're imagining the approving look that Indra is giving you from your peripheral vision. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes; Ryder will take you to the gates," Lexa said, her hand resting casually on the pommel of her sword. "I will meet you there shortly. I must speak to Saka before we depart."

"Where _is_ she?" You ask, having found yourself curious of the women's wearabouts. Where does one keep their possibly traitorous wife when they're about to leave for battle?

"In holding." Lexa finally answers after a few uncomfortable moments of silence. "I admit that I confronted her once I spoke to you yesterday, and when my questions drew naught from her, I was forced to have her contained."

"She said nothing?" You ask, surprised, though you shouldn't be. The Azgeda warriors that you had met so far hadn't exactly been talkative, especially without prompting. "Nothing at all?"

Lexa merely tilted her head. "It is our nature to keep silent when questioned, since silence can both condemn you or save your life. It is possible that she knows nothing of the attacks, but it is also true that she may simply being unwilling to divulge what she knows to me, or her part in them. Either way, she knows that if it is true that her clan has broken the contract of the coallition, her life as the _Azgeda prisa_ is more or less forfeit, and it is better for her to hold her tongue."

You repress a shudder at the way that Lexa speaks so casually, as if the thought of sentencing her own wife to death was of no concern to her, but then you remember the way she left you so easily on the mountain and you can't help trying to reconcile this woman with the one you saw last night. You wonder how many faces the commander has, and you wonder who she truly is, beneath all the facades that she wears like armor.

You doubt that you will ever find out.

"Would you let me speak with her?" You ask, earning a suprised and slightly suspicious look from the commander, even surprising yourself. "Maybe she'll talk to me."

Lexa studies you briefly for a few moments, intensely, before lifting her shoulders in a small shrug and gesturing for you to follow her. You walk quietly behind the woman as she leads you from the house, raising an eyebrow in some surprise when you merely cross the street, stopping in front of a brick building, not far from the small library that you had met in the previous day. Two men stand guard outside the door, one of whom opens it at your approach with a small nod of respect as you pass him by. You walk down a tight, dark corridor, passing by closed doors with your eyes locked firmly on the commander's tense back, stopping when the dark haired woman pauses in front of a door, being guarded by no less than three armed warriors.

You watch as Lexa hand hovers briefly over the door handle, before she suddenly reaches out to grasp it, throwing the door open and striding inside with her head held high, while you tentitavely follow.

You have only seen _Saka kom Azgeda_ once, on the night of her bonding ceremony to the commander almost four years ago and she's as beautiful now as she was back then.

It is obvious with only a glance to tell that she is from the northern clans, situated up in the mountains where the weather is always cold and snow falls more often than not. Her white blonde hair is long, flowing over her shoulders in intricate braids and intertwined with colourful beads and feathers. It's surrounds her finely featured face, with pale skin, creamy white and smooth like marble, stretched tight over sharp cheekbones that are dusted with a pink flush from the heat. Her pink lips are pale and full, pursed as she studies your form in return, with cold eyes that are so pale, they're almost colourless except for the tiniest hint of blue. She's dressed in white furs that cover a thin but strong body and you can see that she would easily stand an inch or two higher than you, as your eyes trail over her long, long legs that are crossed at the ankle.

You think briefly that if the commander had to marry a possible traitor, at least she was fucking _stunning_.

" _Aleksandria,"_ Saka murmurs, her voice smooth and cool as her eyes flick towards her wife, who stands stiffly to your left, before returning back to you. "You did not tell me that we had such an honourable guest staying in our home."

" _Saka_ ," Lexa says the name, without a hint of warmth and you glance at her wide eyed to take stock of the cold, emotionless expression on her face with a hint of surprise. "This is-"

" _Klark kom Skaikru."_ Saka finishes for her wife, her eyes flicking appreciatively over your leather covered form, sending a cold shiver down your spine as she appraised you. "Strange, how one so beautiful has killed so many, no?"

You hold her gaze, even as you feel your entire body stiffening at her words, your hand unconciously reaching for the knife sheathed at your waist. Saka's eyes follow your movements and her lips lift up in an amused smirk as you drop your hand back at your side.

"Saka, I leave now with my army to travel to _Thera,"_ Lexa says and her voice takes on an almost pleading note, as she takes a step closer to the woman sitting on the floor, still managing to look somehow regal in her position. "Is there anything that you wish to tell me before I go?"

Saka merely looks up at her wife with cool eyes, saying nothing, before Lexa finally sighs and shakes her head, turning away to meet your eyes. She tilts her head as she gazes at you, before striding past you to stand in the open doorway, her green eyes burning into Saka's from across the room. You catch Saka's stare when it finally returns to you and you take several steps forward, before crouching down until you're eye to eye with the other woman, clasping your hands before you. You appraise each other, for several minutes in silence, and you ignore the sound of Lexa shuffling at your close proximity from her place behind you.

"I have lived in _Thera_ for almost four years now," you finally say with as much nochalance as you can manage, staring at the pale eyed woman who gazes back at you curiously in silence. "I met a woman in the woods, after visiting the dropship where my people and I landed, and she took me there because she thought that _Thera_ would be good for me. I was hurting and I needed a place to rest and _Luna kom floukru_ took me in, even though I had nothing to offer her. She gave me a bed and she fed me and she had her captain train me in the ways of the sword and she gave me a home, something that I've never had since I stepped foot on the ground."

"Luna is a good woman," Saka comments when you pause, with a hint of warmth in her tone. "I have never seen one other than the commander that can hit a target with a dagger so accurately from such a distance as she can."

You tilt your head in acknowledgement at her words, letting a small smile tilt your lips. "She _is_ a good woman, and the _floukru_ are good people; I've made many friends in _Thera._ " You say the words softly, even as the smile slips from your lips and your eyes harden. "And right now, my friends are _dying_ because _your people_ are attacking them. I have captured _Azgeda_ warriors and I have cut into their flesh until their screams were the only things I could hear ringing in my ears, and do you know who they told me sent them? _Nia kom Azgeda._ Do you know anything about that?"

You watch as Saka's eyes soften momentarily at the mention of your friends, before hardening once more, and it surprises you. There is nothing in her gaze or expression that leads you to believe that she knows any information about what her mother has been doing. For the very first time since your people were attacked, you wonder if Saka has anything to do with it, or if she is just an innocent woman who might be put to death because of her mother's mistakes.

When the other woman says nothing, continuing to simply stare back at you in silence, you shake your head slightly as you admit defeat. You move to stand but before you can, Saka finally speaks.

"It must have been very hard for you," Saka says softly, her words sympathetic as she gazes at you with her pale blue eyes searching your face. "To finally find peace, only to have it snatched from your grasp."

You feel a lump form in your throat and you swallow heavily, saying nothing as you stare back at the other woman who shakes her head almost sadly. You try to cover up the hurt you feel, the pain caused by those words that hit home harder than Saka probably knows, but you think you fail if the expression on the other woman's face is anything to go by.

"I wonder how it must have felt for you, Clarke," the woman murmurs, and your brows begin to furrow as her voice drops lower until it's barely a whisper and her eyes become cold as she stares at you with a morbid sense of curiousity. "Tell me, was it painful for you when my mother's captain drove his sword through _Isandra_ 's chest? She was your lover for a short time, was she not?"

You feel frozen at the other woman's words as they slip into your heart like ice, your hands clenching into fists where they rest on your thighs as you stare into Saka's eyes, while a cold smile spreads across the pale woman's beautiful face.

"My men tell me that you fought very honourably; they say that you cut down six of our warriors in your fight to get to her, but you were too late." Saka gives a mocking sigh of sadness, her hand reaching up to cover her heart as she shakes her head with pity. "You managed to save Luna though, did you not? When one of my men managed to pierce through her shoulder with his spear? But again, you were not fast enough to save _Dren_ or _Kado,_ and poor _Mishka,_ she died in your arms-"

Saka's next words are cut off as your hands shoot out to wrap tightly around her throat, where you squeeze the pale flesh beneath your fingers as tightly as you can. Your entire body is shaking with the weight of her words, with all the deaths that weigh so heavily on your shoulders and you just want to _destroy_ something. You barely notice Saka's pale hands scrabbling against your forearms, or her fingernails that leave bloodied gashes on your hands as you continue to squeeze tighter and tighter, keeping your eyes locked firmly on her pale gaze as you squeeze and squeeze-

Until strong hands wrap around your bisceps and wrench you bodily away, pulling your hands from Saka's throat and leaving the pale, beautiful woman gasping and retching on the stone floor.

" _Clarke."_ Lexa's hoarse voice whispers raggedly in your ear as you struggle against her hold, but you barely hear her, your entire focus on the _Azgeda prisa_ who now looks up at you from her position on the floor, with a mixture of fear and awe in her eyes.

" _Ai na frag yu op,"_ you hiss in trigedasleng, earning another surprised glance from Saka at your use of the language, at the ease in which it slips from your lips. " _Ai na frag emo op! Ai na jus daun."_

You throw off Lexa's hold with an angry snarl, which had tightened slightly on your arms as you spat your hateful words at her wife. You push past her, ignoring the hand that reaches for you as you stride from the room with a scream building in your chest. The guards watch you with wide eyes, filled with awe as you storm out of the building and into the cool dawn air. You pause just outside, ignoring the curious looks thrown towards you by the guards stationed at the door, and lean down to rest your hands on your knees, breathing heavily. It takes several long moments for the red to slowly recede from your vision and you can feel the newly healed scars on your back pull from the way your body is positioned, a constant reminder of the lives that have ended on the edge of your blade. You lean over further, feeling your muscles tensing and pulling the scars so tight that you wonder briefly if they will rip right open, leaving your back drenched in blood.

You straighten when you hear the door open and close behind you, followed by the warmth of the commander's body as she pauses behind you. You can feel her hesitation, can the feel the warmth of the hand that hangs above your shoulder, ready to offer comfort, but you move away before it can touch your skin.

"The sun rises," you finally manage to say, your voice sounding as if from far away as your heartbeat continues to pound loudly in your ears. "It's time to go."

You don't look back once as you begin the walk to the city gates, but you can feel Lexa's gaze burning in between your shoulder blades for the entire duration of the short journey.

/

When you finally reach the gates, Indra is waiting for you, her dark eyes unreadable as she studies your approaching figures. Her gaze finally stops to rest on Lexa and she tilts her head slightly as she studies her commander, seeming to read her thoughts if her next words are anything to go by. "She knew."

Lexa doesn't say anything, simply nods her head sharply in reponse before striding off into the masses of warriors that are crowded inside the gates. You watch her go, standing by Indra's side and note the way she walks so confidently, with her head held high and her back straight as she barks orders, like she hadn't just found out that her wife had betrayed her.

"You aren't surprised," you finally say, when Lexa disappears into the mob, turning your head to face Indra who is watching you carefully. "Neither of you are."

It's not a question, but Indra answers you anyway. "No, we are not."

You shake your head, feeling more than a little bit confused and even more overwhelmed. "I don't understand."

Indra is still watching you, quietly with a flicker of thoughtfulness in her eyes, as if she's considering something, before she finally speaks. " _Heda_ did not have the choice to marry for love, sky girl. _Azgeda_ took that desicion from her when they threatened to break the coalition."

You know the story, at least some of it, from Luna's own lips, but you ask anyway. "What do you mean?"

" _Nia kom Azgeda_ desires nothing more than power," Indra offers, her words laced heavily with hatred and barely repressed anger. "When she threatened to break her part of the coalition, _heda_ was desperate, so when Nia offered a union to make _Azgeda_ and _Trikru_ one, _heda_ could only agree. She might not have been able to take the throne herself, but she got as close as she could, by seating her daughter at the commander's side."

You knew all this, but that doesn't explain the current situation. "But if Nia got what she wanted, why this? And why are you not surprised?"

Indra shrugs at the words, almost casually. "We knew from the beginning that the bonding would only be a temporary fix; Nia is greedy, she would never be content forever to rule only partially through her daughter alone. She wants it all. We knew this day would come, though _heda_ hoped that it would not."

Their is a surprising touch of sympathy in the older woman's words and you find yourself unable to fault the older warrior for it. It's not the most tragic story that you've heard, but you know how much the commander desires peace, and you think it must hurt her to have it all ripped away, especially by her own wife. Even if she _was_ expecting it.

You can only shake your head as you follow Indra through the crowds of warriors, catching a glimpse of your midnight coloured horse standing patiently by a familiar white mare. You stroke Raven's nose, feeling all the remaining tension drain from your body as the mare nuzzles against your hand, snorting softly against your skin.

"Hey, girl," you murmur, taking note of your packs that have been reattatched to her saddle and nodding in satisfaction as you pat the horse's neck. You place your foot in the stirrup and swing gracefully up onto the saddle, smiling slightly as Raven turns you both around in a restless circle.

It's only a few moments later before Lexa is striding through the crowds of grounders, sighing softly when you avoid her gaze before swinging up onto the back of her white mare with a grace born from a lifetime of riding. She gestures to the warriors who stand guard at the gate, her back straightening as the doors begin to swing open, showing the towering trees and the dirt path that you will be following for at least the next three days.

" _Gonas kom Polis!"_ The commander's voice carried easily over the sudden silence as the warriors formed disciplined lines behind her. " _Masta ai op, kom wor!"_

The organised lines of warriors behind her cried out in response, slamming their weapons or fists against their armor as Lexa glanced briefly over at you, her green eyes sparkling in the day's first rays of sunlight. She tilted her head slightly in your direction before gently pressing her heels against her white mare's sides, urging the horse into action, with Raven's following barely a step behind.

And then you were outside of the gates, with an army at your back and Lexa at your side and it all felt uncomfortably familiar.

You only hoped that it wouldn't end in the same way as before.


	5. Chapter 5

It is nearing midday and you're pretty sure that you're on the very edge of losing your mind.

You left Polis almost six hours ago and while you've made good time so far, considering the force that's marching behind you, mostly on foot, it's not good enough when you think about how much longer you still have to go. You spent the first few hours riding alongside Lexa, at the very head of the army, in a silence that was so thick that by the end of the second hour, you had to move away lest you start talking about the weather or the scenery, just to break it.

You began riding up and down the disiplined lines of the army, having casual conversations with the warriors and the carters, pausing once to settle a disbute between two men (that had started over a canister of what you were pretty sure was mead) and checking on the wagons to make sure that the supplies were secure. Indra had spent the hours watching you with an amused eye from the back of her horse, her gaze trailing you as you rode from the head of the army to the very back, where you encouraged the straggling seconds who were beginning to lag behind as the hours drifted past. She didn't offer you any sarcastic or disparging remarks, seeming to sense your need to do _something,_ anything to stop you from simply riding ahead of the army and back to Thera as quickly as you can on your own.

You almost growl when Lexa raises her hand in the air, pulling her horse to a stop and calling for a break, since you think that you will seriously go off the deep end if you actually stop moving for more than a minute. You feel jumpy and restless and you know that something bad will come of your mood if you're forced to sit down for the next thirty minutes while the _Trikru_ army rests.

You swing down off your midnight black horse with an angry mutter, watching as the warriors around you simply sit down cross legged in the middle of the road, pulling food from their packs and beginning to eat. Your catch a glimpse of Lexa wandering through the ranks in your direction and you turn away from her quickly, your blue eyes landing on a group of seconds, sitting in a circle talking towards the end of the army. You recognise a few of them from the fighting pits yesterday and you march over towards them without another thought, causing them to look up at you with wide eyes filled with awe and respect.

" _Sekens,"_ you call, putting a hint of steel in your voice that you had picked up from _Luka,_ over the past four years. " _Sep up!"_

The boys quickly scramble to obey your command, earning a few amused glances from the warriors watching you with curious eyes, Indra included. You let your eyes scan over their gangly forms, noticing the muscles that were beginning to build in arms and legs and nodding your head in approval. They would do well for your little mission.

"Do you know who I am?" You ask in English, watching as the boys furrow their brows in concentration as they try to understand your words.

" _Klark kom S-"_ One of them begins to speak, only for you to cut them off sharply.

"In English." You snap.

"Clarke of the Sky People," the boy finally says, his words slipping uneasily from his mouth as he reguards you with wide eyes. You nod your head in approval, trying to hide your smile as the corners of the boy's lips tip up in a barely repressed grin of pride.

"The woods are full of enemies," you murmur darkly, adding a tinge of dramatics to the situation whilst ignoring the warmth of a body that you can feel coming up behind you, and the slow widening of the _sekens_ eyes as they take in the imposing figure of the commander at your back. "You will come with me to search the surrounding area, to make sure that your people are safe from harm, understood?"

The boy's nod their heads eagerly at your words and at the thought of being trained by none other than the infamous _Wanheda,_ checking their weapons and armor before straightening up beneath your gaze, your own little army of seven. You ignore Lexa's amused snort, turning around and striding off into the forest, with the seconds following behind you like eager puppies, without a single glance back.

" _Mela op,"_ you say as you enter the tree line, every one of your instincts flaring as you glance into the shadows of the woods. " _Loka au."_

You walk quietly between the trees, your light steps barely making a sound on the forest floor, with the boy's following you like ghosts. They are well trained, barely making a noise as you search the surrounding forest, keeping their breaths slow and even as they duck skillfully behind trees and avoid branches and dead leaves on the forest floor. You pause instinctively when you hear a quiet noise, not far in the distance, your right hand clenching lightly over the handle of your dagger as you slip into the shadow of a nearby tree. "Listen."

The woods are deathly quiet for several long moments, until the soft sound of crackling leaves is heard and the boys tense in anticipation. " _Azgeda?"_ One boy whispers the question, causing an amused smile to tip your lips. They are so _eager._

"No," you murmur in reponse, catching a flicker of movement with your sharp eyes, as you slide your dagger slowly from it's shealth and hold it lightly between your fingers. "Dinner."

You let the blade fly, listening to the soft whistle the dagger makes as it cuts through the air, followed by a grunt and the thump of a heavy body hitting the forest floor. The boys follow you excitedly as you jog lightly across the ground, until you come to a stop beside the huge body of a stag, dark eyes open and unseeing in death. You feel a moment of regret, looking down at the beautiful beast, but then you remember the crates upon crates of dried jerky waiting for you for dinner and feel slightly better.

You pull the knife from the stag's throat, slick with blood, before turning and offering the hilt to the young boy at your side, earning a wide eyed look in response. "Gut it and clean it out; it's going to be hard enough to carry this thing back to the road without all of the unneccesary bits. Make sure you bury it all deep enough that we don't attract scavengers."

The boy nods his head enthusiastically, dropping to his knees to begin his work, as you order the other seconds to stand guard. You face away from the boy and the stag, watching the quiet forest for any signs of life and finding nothing as you wait for the young man to finish. It doesn't take long and you quickly help the boys hoist the massive beast up onto their shoulders, getting your own shoulder beneath the stags hindquarters as you begin the journey back to the road.

The stag is _heavy,_ which shouldn't be surprising, since it's easily one of the biggest that you've ever seen, weighing a couple of hundred pounds at least. You thankfully hadn't wandered far into the woods during your short scouting lesson and you're relieved when you finally see a break in the trees, unable to stop the smile that graces your lips when you finally step back onto the road and you're greeted with loud cries of surprise and approval. You're even more relieved when a group of warriors relieve you of your burden, laughing and clapping you heartily on the back as they carry it away to place it in the back of one of the empty wagons. It's not long after the boys have been pulled away by the warriors that you feel that familiar warmth at your back, but you don't let the smile drop from your face.

"Who killed the stag?" Lexa asks you as she steps up beside you, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches the seconds telling the story to the group of warriors that are loading the stag into the wagon.

"I did," you say with a shrug, acting nochanlant, even as you feel a proud smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "I thought you might appreciate a hot meal instead of whatever it is you've got boxed up in those crates."

"You have my thanks, Clarke," Lexa's voice is serious, though you can hear the amusement that she's trying to surpress. "That beast could have taken out half the army if it wished. It is quite large."

"I didn't really think about it," you finally admit with a somewhat sheepish grin, finally turning your head to capture Lexa's gaze. "It was just _there_ and I threw my dagger without considering the fact that we'd have to carry it back. It was _heavy._ "

Lexa turns her head away to survey the temporary camp, in what you think is an attempt to hide her smile and for a very small moment, you forget about the anger that you feel for her and you just feel _light._ Weightless, like there are no burdens resting on your shoulders, like you're not about to walk into a war with this woman by your side, one who has proved that she cannot be trusted.

It's nice.

"Come, Clarke," Lexa finally says, once she's managed to contain her smile and her face is once again impassive. "The road it yet long."

You watch her as she disappears into the crowd of warriors that have finally finished their break, before turning away to find Raven, where she waits patiently for you at the other end of the army.

/

The army marches doggedly through the afternoon and straight into early evening and it's not until the sun is hidden behind the towering trees of the woods that Lexa stops her mount literally in the middle of the road and starts barking orders for her warriors to set up camp. You think to yourself that you could have gone on longer, since the warriors still seem to be in good spirits with enough energy to continue marching right into the night, but you say nothing as you slide off Raven's back, handing over your reins to a nearby warrior.

You turn in a circle and survey the warriors as they begin to set up camp and notice the large tent that is beginning to be built in the centre of the army. You remove your own supplies from Raven's back before she's led away and decide to set up your tent on the very edge of the camp, as far away from the centre as you can manage.

It's not as if your ride at Lexa's side had been exceptionally horrible, because it hadn't, you had even managed a handful of words in easy conversation, and the commander had unexpectedly pulled a smile from your lips when she pointed out a female rabbit with it's young on the side of the road.

It was more than it had all been _too_ easy, too easy to fall back into familiar patterns with the commander, even after six years apart and a vast ocean of betrayal and pain between you. It made you uncomfortable and more than a little wary, how easy it was to forget about the need to maintain the distance between the two of you, emotionally if not physically, for your own sanity, when Lexa was by your side, chatting casually as if you were old friends instead of estranged ex-allies, who had been barely more than strangers to one another in the past.

(strangers who spoke of love and weakness, of hearts broken and lovers lost. strangers who talked of death and living, of war and victory, who kissed in the quiet before battle and who shared secret smiles on their walk to damnation, who thought of _not yet_ and dreamed and prayed for the possibility of a _someday._ strangers who hoped together for a _tomorrow_ and a _future._ )

You are halfway through setting up your tent when Indra seems to magically appear by your side, eyeing your half constructed future dwelling with a mixture of disdain and curiousity. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up my tent," you reply easily, your brow creasing as you concentrate. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Indra rolls her eyes at your words but only says, " _heda_ has ordered the space next to her tent to be left clear for yours."

"That's nice of her, but I'm fine here," you reply simply, standing back and smiling proudly at your tent once you've finished. "I want to be near the woods to listen, in case of an ambush."

It's only a half truth, but it's truth enough. Indra scoffs.

"We are too close to Polis to be attacked," she says, eyeing the thin fabric that is supposed to protect you from the edge of the woods, which is barely a few feet away.

"I was attacked on my way to the city, even _closer_ to the gates than we are now," you reply, your eyes searching the darkness hidden behind the trees. "I want to be prepared."

The older woman looks thoughtful at your words, eyeing the flickering shadows in the woods carefully before she nods her head firmly. "I will speak to _heda._ We should double the guard."

"Do that." You say with a firm nod, before pushing aside the flap of your tent. "Rest well, Indra."

"And you, _Klark kom Skaikru_ ," Indra says, almost respectfully, her eyes lingering on the woods before she turns sharply on her heel, heading for the commander's tent. You smile slightly before slipping into your own small sleeping place, throwing your pack on the floor as you unwrap your bedroll. You collapse on the furs with a sigh, knowing that you still have some time before dinner will be ready and you close your eyes to get a few moments of rest, having already decided to spend the night on watch.

You fall asleep in seconds.

You wake what feels like moments later, drenched in sweat with your limbs shaking like leaves fluttering in a brisk wind.

With every quick fluttering of your eyelids, you see images painted on their backs; a city on fire, burnt and blistered children, Raven screaming on a table, Lexa's face covered in blood, her expression of regret. More recent memories flicker across your eyelids, of _Isandra's_ glassy brown eyes staring up at you, unseeing, of hot blood dripping from your finger tips as you carved your knife into flesh, of Luna's stormy grey eyes welling with tears as she clenched her jaw against the pain of your needle slipping beneath the ruined flesh of her shoulder.

You press the palms of your hands against your eyes, pushing until your vision goes black, the images slipping away. It's not uncommon for you to wake up from nightmares, sweating and shaking, but this is the first time in a while that you've woken up _alone_ and you're not sure how to making the trembling stop.

The source of your sudden awakening becomes quickly apparent when a soft voice calls from outside your tent before the flap slips open, revealing a figure draped in shadows with firelight at her back. Lexa, of course.

"Clarke?" Her voice is soft and all too concerned and you pull your hands away from your face, subtly wiping away the tears that had welled in your eyes as you do.

"Ever heard of knocking?" You say, managing not to spit the words with too much force, but your voice is still hostile enough to wipe the concern off Lexa's face, quickly hidden beneath the mask of the commander.

"I heard noises," is all that she offers, her eyes still roaming carefully over your face and for a moment, you see that same face coated with the lifeblood of the _Maunon,_ but then you blink and it's gone. "And there is no door for me to knock upon."

You bite back every sarcastic remark that threatens to spill from your lips, like, _how long were you waiting outside to hear noises?_ It's a defensive mechanism you know, a way to feel stronger when you currently feel so weak and small, curled as you are in your tiny tent, knees pressed to your chest and your eyes still wet with unwanted tears. There's barely enough space in your tent for one, let alone two people and it's small enough that Lexa has to duck slightly, to stop from brushing her head against the fabric that makes up the roof.

"I'm fine," you finally say, stretching out from your curled up position and sitting up on your furs, running your fingers through your dishevled hair to straighten it out. "Everything's fine."

Lexa doesn't look convinced but she nods anyway, tilting her head slightly as she takes a small step backwards. "Come, Clarke, dinner is waiting."

You follow the commander reluctantly from the sanctuary of your tent, into the cool night air where the camp is aglow in the light of a large bonfire. You think that the camp is a sitting target for any enemy waiting within the surrounding ten mile radius, but you notice the many guards standing watch around the camp and you feel a little relieved that Indra heeded your warning. You expect to make your way to the fire, where you can see people handing out sticks covered in meat, but you're not really surprised when Lexa holds open the flap of her tent for you to step inside.

The space inside the tent is almost exactly the same as you remember it to be, lit up with several small lanterns, with the commander's throne set upon the ground at the other end of the room. To your left is the war table, where a map of the area is placed, complete with small figurines and models and to your right is another smaller table, with two chairs and two plates full of still steaming meat waiting for you. You catch a glimpse of Lexa's furs, just behind the dining table, along with the chest that holds her personal items and it feels as if you've stepped back into the past.

"Like nothing has changed," you murmur to yourself softly, ignoring the look that Lexa throws you from the corner of your eye. You shake your head as the commander walks past you, striding over to the table and sitting down with a grace that clings to her every move. She gestures silently to the seat across from her and you take it after a few moments of hesitation, shaking your head again when Lexa merely starts eating without another word.

You're quiet throughout the entire meal and except for the few times that you can feel Lexa's gaze burning into your skin (you never look up from your plate) it's peaceful. As soon as you're finished eating, Lexa stands up once again and strides over to the war table and you guess that the time for silence is over. You stand up after a few moments of staring at her back, marvelling quietly at her perfect posture before you finally follow. What you find is not what you expect.

Upon the war table, where there was once a map of the Mountain and it's surrounding areas, a map that you knew like the back of your hand, there is now something new. A map of _Thera._

The map spans the length of almost the entire table, and you marvel at the detail, wondering how long it must have taken. In the center of the map is _Thera,_ the city of the _floukru,_ surrounded by the exquisitely carved gates made of wood, sitting on the edge of a giant cliff that you know stands a few hundred feet above the ocean. Half of the map is made up of water, though there are a few figurines seated on the blue stained paper, small handcrafted boats to show where the _floukru's_ ships are anchored. The other half of the map shows the grass covered ground that leads down from the cliff, before it turns into sand that spreads out as far as the eye can see in both directions. Past the golden sand of the beach is the forest, which covers the rest of the map and which continues on much further than where the map ends, for hundreds of miles in each direction. The further you journey into the forest, the thicker is gets, and you can see the figurine at the bottom of the map, a tiny model of what is truly the largest oak tree that you have ever seen, which is the point where the _floukru_ territory drifts into that of the _trikru,_ their closest allies.

Your hand reaches out of it's own accord, gently, almost lovingly, brushing your fingers over the wooden fence that guards the city that you've called home for the past four years. It's beautiful and you miss it so much in this moment that your heart _aches._

You think you catch a soft look pass over Lexa's face as she watches you, in your peripheral vision, but you don't lift your eyes from the map for a moment to return her gaze.

You watch as Lexa's hands move into your vision, holding a bunch of tiny flags that you recognise with a hint of disgust, which she places on the table before you.

"Tell me where they are," Lexa says, pulling her hand away and watching intently as you slowly reach out to pick up one of the tiny flags, fighting the urge to crush it within your grasp. Slowly, you place the flag on the map, followed by another, then another and another until you've run out.

"Got anymore of those?" You murmur, finally lifting your head to meet Lexa's green gaze, watching as she sighs with a frown before moving away to retrieve more pieces.

/

An hour later, you've pushed the giant map up as far as it can go on the war table, until the ocean hangs slightly off the edge, and have added another, smaller, but no less detailed map underneath; a map of the _Trikru_ territory between _Thera_ and _Polis._

You have placed tiny _Azgeda_ flags on every bit of land that you know their warriors have camped in between the _floukru_ city and _Polis_ and now the fourteen light blue flags stare back at you defiantly, mocking you.

"So many," Lexa murmurs, her brow furrowed as she leans her hands upon the table, her green eyes studying the map intensely.

"There's _thousands_ of them," you reply, your voice equally soft, but filled with an anger that Lexa lacks. "They arrived in the night and in the beginning, we thought that they were making their way to Polis... until they attacked one of our outposts. We were lucky that one of our scouts survived to warn us or we probably wouldn't have lasted long enough to barricade the gates against them."

Barricading the gates is the only reason that the city survived at all, outnumbered as you were. It is no secret that the Ice Nation is the largest clan in the coalition, it's numbers more than double that of any of the other clans, with more than half of their people trained in the deadly art of war. The population of _Thera_ is that of little more than two thousand, with less than a thousand of those being trained warriors and more than half of those warriors had been either lost or wounded in the battles and skirmishes that have lasted over the past two monthss.

You know that you're lucky that there have been any survivors at all, outnumbered easily three to one as you are.

"They were like ghosts in the snow," you whisper, your eyes glazing over slightly as you remembered the first few skirmishes, so many weeks ago now. "It rarely snows in _Thera,_ but the winter hit us so hard this year and the city was half covered in snow by the end of the first month of season. The city is easy to defend, but they were so hard to see, we could barely leave the city without being slaughtered."

It had taken an entire month of fighting and for Luna to be speared through the shoulder for her to finally pull her warriors back securely behind their gates for good. In the beginning, they had ventured out into the surrounding woods, fighting the _Azgeda_ warriors head on in an attempt to push them back, but there had been too many. As hard and skilled as the _floukru_ warriors were, they were outnumbered and struggling in the cold, more used to fighting in the heat than the mind numbing cold, but the Ice Nation were in their element.

They had planned their attack well and the Boat People barely stood a chance. It was only Luna's superb leadership and her sharp mind that had kept them alive for as long as they had.

"The Ice Nation are fierce warriors," Lexa said softly, turning her head to meet your gaze. "But we _will_ beat them, Clarke. This is not the first time that _floukru_ and _trikru_ have joined forces against _azgeda_ and we have _never_ lost. That will not change. And the clans closest to Polis will join us in the fight; azgeda will be outnumbered by far and _Nia_ will regret her desicion to break her oath to the coalition. I will make sure of it."

You say nothing, but you feel a small flicker of hope burst to life in your chest, warming the part of your heart that had spent the last few months frozen in fear and despair. You turned your gaze back to the map, studying the pieces before you give a tiny nod of your head.

"So," you finally say, breaking the heavy silence that has settled over the inside of the tent. "What's your plan, commander?"

Lexa's response is a smile that is equal parts beautiful and terrifying.


	6. Chapter 6

It's nearing dawn, the sky ever so slightly beginning to lighten as you sit in the shadow of your tent, your blue eyes scanning the dark forest for invisible enemies. It's only been a few hours since you left the commander's tent, after hours and hours of talking about stratagy and battle plans and sneak attacks and you had left Lexa bleary eyed, slumped on the edge of her sleeping furs, where she had sat for the last hour as you paced energetically around the war table. It had been all too familiar, turning away from the map to see the commander sitting on her cot, watching you intently as you tossed ideas back and forth, so you bid her goodnight as soon as that old familiar warmth begun to flare in your chest.

You couldn't have that. You didn't _want_ that.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it hadn't all been so _easy,_ with the way you had both snapped at each other, voices raised in argument as you planned. Except this time, unlike six years ago, it had been _you_ that was pushing for the most violent plans of attack, while Lexa shot you down, time and time again. You had ended up accusing her of being too close to the enemy, which had turned into a near screaming match of it's own, leaving the two of you to lick your wounds in the thick silence that had followed.

You sigh quietly as you wrap your cloak tighter around your body, fighting off the shivers that are racing down your spine as the cool dawn air brushes against your exposed skin, painfully. It is a reminder that while the snow has finally begun to melt, winter is barely gone, still lingering in the air as frost covers the ground and the wind blows harshly through the trees, chilling you to the bone.

"Clarke," a voice speaks softly from behind you and you turn your head to give Indra a half smile as the older woman greets you with a slight incline of her head. "It was a quiet night."

You nod grimly at the other woman's words, taking notice of what she isn't saying as she comes to stand beside your seated form. It had been a very quiet night, especially after the large group of warriors from the Mountain clan had joined the camp, just before midnight. There hadn't been a single chirp of a cricket or the crunching of a leaf to disturb the stillness since.

"They're out there," you murmur, quietly enough that only Indra can hear, as the woman crouches down by your side. "There aren't many of them, but they're there."

"Yes." Indra whispers, her dark, sharp eyes gazing into the forest intently, flashing with a feral kind of hunger that you know all too well. "Dawn approaches, Clarke, but there is still time before the sun steals the shadows from the forest."

You smile darkly at the older woman's subtle suggestion, inclining your head in agreement, even as you silently slip a dagger out from the shealth at your side. You stand casually from your spot on the cold ground, stretching your muscles and wrapping your dark cloak around your lithe form, before you turn and follow Indra into the camp, winding through the closely packed tents gracefully. It's not until you reach the commander's tent in the middle of the camp that you duck low, slinking in the shadows and keeping your movements silent as you follow the leader of the _trikru_ into the dark forest that surrounds the camp.

You meet Indra's gaze briefly at the edge of the tree line before you part ways, sharing a feral smile as you slip silently away, your fingers clenching tightly around the handle of your dagger as you begin to hunt.

The forest is silent in the quiet before dawn, that kind of unearthly quiet that lets you know that something is amiss, and it sends a trickle of adrenaline through your veins as you prepare yourself for a fight. Your steps are light on the forest floor, gliding between the trees like a ghost and carefully avoiding clumps of dead leaves and errant branches with ease. The forest is so dark that you can barely see, since the moon set long ago, and you're glad that your cloak is dark enough that you blend into the forest easily, just another shadow.

It's takes you barely a few minutes of searching before you find the first one, kneeling silently within the curved roots of a tree, watching the camp intently. You take note of the thick dark mud covering the white and grey furs and the _azgeda_ tattoo inked into the man's temple as you slink up from behind him and he doesn't make a sound as you press your blade against his throat, dragging it smoothly from ear to ear, like a bloody grin. You lay his body down in the shadow of the tree, once it's stopped jerking, before continuing on.

You take down three more in complete silence and it's almost _too easy;_ you should have guessed that your luck was about to run out as you laid the fourth man's body down carefully on the forest floor.

You hear them barely a second before they reach you and it's not enough time to turn around, let alone fight, as they grab you from behind. The blade that presses against your neck is so sharp that you bleed before you even feel the cut, and you think for a moment that _this is it_ , this is how you finally end, and you are so _relieved_ for a momentthat your eyes burn with tears as your body slumps defeatedly into your captor's arms.

But death doesn't come straight away; you're simply forced to stand on the precipice and wait for it, as you hear harsh breathing in your ear and feel a warm body press against your back.

"Well, well, well," a distinctly female voice breathes into your ear as your head is tilted to the side, showing your face to the person behind you. "If it isn't the mighty _Wanheda._ The god's must be smiling upon me this day."

The use of your most hated title is enough to push that fleeting relief from your mind, enough to make you want to kill this woman rather than let her take your life. The blade is pressing lightly against your neck and the woman's mistake is to be arrogant enough to even take a moment to address you before she slits your throat. If she'd been smart, she would have killed you as soon as she had the chance, but her confidence would be her downfall.

 _Never let yourself become arrogant,_ Luka's lesson rings briefly in your mind as you take a deep breath to prepare yourself. _Arrogance is a warrior's worst enemy; always assume that your opponent is faster, stronger, more skilled. Never assume that you've won until you_ have.

The sting of the blade slicing into the side of your neck is nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel as your captor's breath is knocked from her chest as you jab your elbow deftly into her ribs. You spin around gracefully, ducking low as the dagger swings over your head, slamming your knuckles hard into the woman's thigh, hitting a pressure point that drops her to one knee. Your grin is feral as you slam your boot into the woman's chest, knocking her onto her back with a grunt of pain, where you leap ontop of her with a snarl.

You block a fist aimed at your throat, but you're not fast enough to avoid the dagger that buries itself into your thigh, causing a muffled hiss of pain to escape your lips. You slam the hilt of your own dagger down onto the woman's sternum, feeling the bone break beneath your blow before you flip the dagger in your hand and slam it into the woman's throat. The blood that sprays from the wound coats your face in a fine mist and leaves your hands coated in the thick substance as you continue to bury the knife deeper, until you feel the blade press against the ground.

You grit your teeth as you listen to the woman gurgle her last breath through the blood that is filling her windpipe before you wrap your fingers around the hilt of the dagger buried in your thigh. You squeeze your eyes closed as you pull it slowly free, unable to stop the whimper that escapes you at the flare of pain, before the feeling of relief floods through you and the pain loses some of it's sharpness. You roll off the woman's body, lying down on the cold forest ground, feeling your heart thumping in your chest as you attempt to catch your breath.

It's blissfully silent for a few moments, but you become instantly alert, your muscles tensing with anticipation, when you hear light footsteps approaching, but you relax almost instantly when you recognise Indra's shadowed face peek out from between the trees.

"Clarke," she whispers, taking in your blood covered form with wide eyes before she crosses the last bit of distance between you, dropping to her knees at your side. Her hands hover over your abdomen as her dark eyes search for a fatal wound, but you wave her off carelessly.

"It's not all mine," you say, referring to the blood that heavily stains your clothes and skin. The thought makes you shiver unpleasantly, but you ignore it.

"But some of it is," Indra responds as her gaze falls upon your thigh. She pulls a wad of cloth from the pouch at her hip and presses it against the wound, seeming to approve of the way you don't even flinch. "We need to get back to camp so that we can clean and stitch your wound. I do not want to have to explain a dead _wanheda_ to the commander."

You roll your eyes as Indra wraps a makeshift bandage around your wound before taking the hand she offers you after only a moment of hesitation. She pulls you to your feet with ease, refusing to let go of your hand even as you glare at her with irritation. She merely stares back at you with a bored expression as she pulls your arm over her shoulders, wrapping her own muscular arm firmly around your waist before you begin the excruciating walk back to camp.

"Did we get them all?" You finally ask, after several minutes of silence, your eyes staring straight ahead as you clench your jaw against the harsh throbbing in your thigh. It pulses unmercilessly with pain with every step you take, but you refuse to acknowledge it in Indra's prescence.

"Yes," Indra answers, helping you carefully over the root of a tree that protrudes from the forest floor. "I will send out some of my warriors to dispose of the bodies once we reach camp."

Your nod your head in response, standing tall, (as tall as you possibly can with a limp) as you make the ten minute journey back to camp. The sun has finally begun to rise above the tree tops once you've returned, and warriors are packing up their tents as the grey sky lightens with a tinge of pink.

You've barely made it five steps into the camp before Lexa appears in the hustle and bustle of the breaking camp, her face a storm as her green eyes land on you.

"Shit," you murmur, resisting the urge to smile as Indra hums in agreement, as you move closer and closer where the commander stands. Lexa's fiery green eyes widen with every step that you take, her gaze roaming over your bloodstained clothes and the arm that is thrown casually over the _trikru_ commanders shoulder, and for a split second, the commander of the twelve clans looks _terrified._

" _What happened?"_ Lexa hisses when you finally reach her, even as she turn around to usher you both hurriedly into her tent, away from curious eyes. You hear her call for a healer before she follows you inside, whirling around to face you with wide, worried eyes. Her hands hover awkwardly in the air, as if she wants to reach out and help you, but you wave her off as Indra lowers you carefully into a chair, where you sigh in relief as the weight finally lifts from your injured leg.

"Hunting party gone wrong," you say, earning a harsh glare from the commander at the understated explaination, her eyes never leaving yours, even as a healer rushes into the tent. The young woman takes one look at you and her eyes widen comically, though you barely pay her any attention as Lexa continues to stare at you with all that _worry_ in her eyes. "I'm fine."

"You are covered in _blood."_ Lexa snaps angrily, ignoring the healer who has finally gained the courage to approach you, gazing at you with hesistant brown eyes, even as you give her your most reassuring smile. "Indra, explain."

You unbutton your pants in silence, pushing yourself into a standing position with your arm braced against the table as Indra snaps to attention. You try to ignore the way Lexa's nostrils flare as you gesture for the healer to remove your pants, her green eyes focused on the way the womans fingers slip beneath your waistband carefully, before inching the fabric down your thighs.

"We detected _azgeda_ spies in the woods," Indra is saying, even as you let out a hiss of pain as the removal of your pants irritates the wound on your thigh. Lexa's jaw clenches as she continues to blatently stare at you, her eyes darting in between your face, your naked thighs, and the healer kneeling on the ground before you. " _Wanheda_ and I entered the forest to dispatch them, and Clarke was injured while taking down once of their warriors. Minor injuries, though she has lost a significant amount of blood from the wound on her thigh."

The healer keeps apologising as she finally inches the fabric down to your ankles, leaving you almost completely naked from the waist down and allowing you to sit back in your seat. You don't look at Lexa, who you know is still watching you, as you gaze with a patient smile at the healer who begins to clean your wound with careful hands.

"The next time that you decide to go on a _hunting party,_ I want to be informed," Lexa finally says, her voice low and angry. Her next words are directed at you. "And _you_ are not to go at all."

Your eyes widen with anger and disbelief at the commander's audacity and you can't help yourself as you snarl a reply, briefly forgetting every single lesson that Luna and Luka has bashed into your thick skull over the last four years. "I don't take orders from you, _commander._ If I wish to go _hunting,_ I will do so, with or without your permission."

"You will _not._ We cannot afford for you to be taking such _stupid_ , reckless risks at this time, Clarke," Lexa reponds furiously, her voice so condescending that you feel a furious rage building in your chest, just begging to explode. You are _not_ a child, after all, or some bumbling _seken._ Lexa's shoulders are tense with anger as she stares back at you, though she conciously softens her tone, ignoring your scoff as she continues. "We march against _azgeda,_ and I need every ally that I can get to win this war. I need _you,_ Clarke _._ "

"You need _me_?" You ask, with no small hint of bitterness lacing your words. "Or you need _Wanheda?"_

 _Bingo._

You know you have her when Lexa's jaw clenches at your words and you feel a humorless laugh bubble up at the commander's silence. You hadn't known Lexa's intentions for you, not for sure, but the expression of almost guilt on her face settles all the last pieces into place.

"Don't think that I'm so stupid," you say, unable to keep the bitterness and misery from your voice. "Don't think that I don't know why Luna sent me to Polis, specifically, and don't assume that I don't know why you need _me._ Azgeda have allies, almost as many as you, but you know that they won't stand against you with _Wanheda_ at your side. Your people fear you, but they fear _me_ more."

Lexa says nothing; simply stares back at you with wide eyes and you shake your head with a sad smile as you finally look away. You feel the tell tale burn of tears building in your eyes as you stare at the tent wall, but you blink them away and swallow the lump growing in your throat.

"You really haven't changed at all, have you." You murmur quietly, not a question, and Lexa's sharp intake of breath informs you that the commander heard the softly spoken words.

"Clarke," she says, her voice equally quiet, but only silence follows the quiet exhalation of your name and it's all the answer that you need.

You turn your gaze to the healer that kneels before you, watching you with a sympathetic expression as she holds up the needle that will stitch your wound back together.

"This will sting," the healer murmurs before you feel the needle prick your skin.

 _Yeah, it really does,_ you think, but it's not the needle that you're referring to.

/

As soon as the healer finishes bandaging your wound, you want to escape the stifling silence that has permeated the room since your arguement with the commander. Indra has left already, to order around the warriors that are packing up camp, and the healer had scuttled away as soon as she'd handed you a small pot of antiseptic paste to smear on your wound every day when changing your bandages. You stand up slowly from your seat, pulling your pants back up your legs with a grimace before testing out your newly stitched thigh. You will be walking with a limp for a few days, but the pain is much more bearable than before and it wouldn't hinder you too much in a fight. You'd faught with much worse, after all.

You turn to leave, but you barely manage a step before Lexa's soft voice stops you.

"Clarke," she murmurs, from where she stands by the war table, sounding as if she's talking to a cornered, wounded animal, which isn't too far from the truth. You pause, a few steps away from the door, but you don't turn around.

"What?" You ask, with barely restrained anger in your voice, feeling the tension curling in your stomach. It had only been minutes since you'd last been spitting angry words at the other woman and you were already rearing to go another round.

"I know you don't trust me," Lexa begins, ignoring your snort of contempt as she continues. "You've made your feelings clear since you entered Polis and I understand that. But whether you consider yourself _floukru_ or _skaikru_ still, you owe me respect, Clarke, and your allegiance-"

"I don't owe you anything," you hiss, cutting the commander off as you whirl around to face her. You open your mouth to spit more words at the other woman, but she stops your impending rant with a sharp wave of her hand.

"I am the commander of the thirteen clans, Clarke," Lexa says angrily, taking no notice of the way your eyes widen as takes a step towards you. You take a step backwards in reaction. "Whether you are _skaikru_ or _floukru,_ I _am_ your _heda."_

 _"What?"_ You snap heatedly, even as your head spins. Thirteen clans? _Thirteen?_ "Since when did the coalition gain a new clan?"

Lexa looks thrown by your question, her green eyes wide as she regards you warily. "Since Marcus Kane, the chancellor of the Sky People, bowed before me and took our mark, five years ago. _Skaikru_ have been under my command ever since."

You have to fight to remain your composure, since while you knew of the continued alliance between the _skaikru_ and the commander, you knew nothing of _this._ How had Luna kept this from you, for the last four years?

"Well," you finally say, straightening your spine as you hold the commander's gaze. It's a fight to keep your face emotionless, but you are proud of the way your voice holds strong. "It's lucky that I'm no longer _skaikru._ Or _floukru_ for that matter."

If Lexa is taken aback by your reply, she doesn't show it. "Then who are you, Clarke?"

"No one," you say. "And I will _never_ bow to you."

The commander says nothing as you turn and exit the tent.

You barely manage to cross the camp and slip inside your own tent before you fall to your knees and cry.


	7. Chapter 7

The second day of marching is much the same as the first, though your restlessness is less prominent, due to the pain in your thigh that throbs worse with every mile. You ride side by side with Indra, in a comfortable silence as you keep watch over the trudging army, whilst keeping your eyes peeled for enemies in the forest that brackets you on both sides.

You're still so surprised by the way that the warriors listen to and obey your every word, not even batting an eyelash when you order a group of one hundred strong to split off at midday, after a brief lunch, to search the woods that surround you. They meet back up with the main party a few miles down the track and report directly to you and Indra, with blood slick weapons from a small group of _azgeda_ warriors they found camped two miles out from the road. You have a brief, silent conversation with Indra, words spoken through a quick glance and a hard nod, before you send the one hundred back out into the forest, with another fifty comrades at their backs. You command for a more thorough search, listing off a few places that you had caught glimpses of ice nation warriors on your journey to _Polis,_ before you watch them melt back into the trees.

The army is joined later in the day by more warriors from different clans, who have heeded the commanders message for help, and whom meld in with the army effortlessly. More than two hundred men and women have now joined you from the _podakru_ , while even more have made the short journey from the west, the people of the _delfikru_ , three hundred strong. You feel hope and gratitude blaze in your chest with each new arrival, with every new face that slips within the ranks of warriors, strengthening them.

You're beginning to feel like you truly have a chance, when you look around at all the warriors, men and women, who march beside you. More than two thousand people, trained almost since birth in the ways of war, with more on the way, they assure the commander. There is a fire burning in your chest, splitting your lips into a grin, which lasts all through the late morning and early afternoon.

It's not until you reach a fork in the road that your smile briefly falters and the entire army stumbles to a collective stop when Lexa abruptly reigns in her horse, raising a clenched fist in the air. Even from your spot in the middle of the army, high on the back of your midnight mare, you can see what has caused the sudden pause of marching feet. You feel your breath stutter in your lungs as all your hope comes crashing down in an instant, smothered beneath the despair you can feel rising in your throat like bile.

Two groups march towards you from each path, divided down the middle by the towering trees that split the road in two.

In the space of a few seconds, you take in the scene, your blue eyes darting to the group that marches towards you from the right path, no more than a few hundred people. Even from this distance, there is something familiar about them, about the way that they are dressed and the way that they move. It is not until you see the weapons they hold that you feel your breath escape from your chest in a sudden, harsh gasp.

Marching towards you from the path that leads to the defeated Mountain, which also leads to _Arkadia,_ holding guns in their hands are _Skaikru._

Your eyes dart to the left, to the path that leads to _Thera,_ where an army, small in comparison to the one that you travel with, marches towards you proudly, with bodies cloaked in white and grey furs and weapons ready. You can see their grim faces beneath their slashes of icy war paint, spears held high as they close the distance between you in orderly lines.

 _Azgeda._

 _Azgeda,_ who are drawing closer and closer by the second, but whom will surely clash with the _Skaikru_ who walk almost beside them, if not for the trees that separate each group, much quicker than they will clash with the commander's army.

And it's that thought that sends your heels into the sides of your horse, surging forwards through the path that the warriors surrounding you create, until you're at the head of the army with Lexa at your side and Indra only a few steps behind.

And then a war horn blows and the road erupts into complete _chaos_.

/

The horn sounds from the _Azgeda_ warriors, who's determined march turns into a mad rush at the sound, war cries spilling from their lips as they charge. They are not afraid, even with the terrifying sight of the thousands of warriors at your back, and the logical side of your brain that isn't gearing itself up for battle, takes a moment to wonder why. It's a suicide mission surely, you know this, and you think they must too, outnumbered as they are. A diversion? You wonder, or some plot about to unfold before your very eyes, you aren't sure.

You don't have much time to question it, but you realize very quickly that you don't need much time at all, because their objective becomes obvious within only a few seconds.

Even as you're pulling your sword from your back, Lexa's voice echoing in your ears as she commands her warriors in _trigedesleng,_ you notice the way the _azgeda_ army forms a spearhead, rather than spreading out as you expected.

A spearhead directed straight at _you_. And the commander.

" _Fuck,"_ you barely have a moment to hiss, right before Lexa lets out a furious battle cry and surges into motion, and you don't have even a second to pull her back and away from this plan which is unravelling right before your eyes. All you can do is swear viciously and follow the commander's lead, letting out a shout as you raise your sword and direct your horse at the oncoming army.

You meet them in the middle, driving through their lines with ease as the edge of your sword clashes hard against another wielded expertly by an ice nation warrior. You growl at the impact, letting your sword slide gratingly against the edge of your opponent's blade before you throw your weight into a backhanded swing that connects with the back of the man's neck, dropping him in a spray of blood and bone fragments. Another warrior stabs at your thigh with a spear as you delve deeper into the Ice Nation army and you kick the tip of the spear away before bringing your sword down on top of his head, splitting his skull open with a crack that echoes horribly in your ears. You continue to swear obscenely with every swing of your sword, directing Raven with only the strength of your thighs as your free hand reaches for the dagger at your waist, as more and more warriors crowd around you and your mount.

The plan is now unbearably obvious, as you watch the way the ice nation warriors pay no heed to the commander's army, seeming to focus their attention directly on you and the commander. They swarm around your mounts and you manage to catch a glimpse Lexa's face at the exact moment that their mission becomes apparent to her. You watch the way her green eyes widen with shock and understanding before narrowing dangerously as her full lips part in an angry snarl, her already blood soaked sword slashing furiously at the arms of a man who is reaching up to pull her from her saddle.

Cutting off the head of the snake, you think angrily, as you duck to avoid a spear that flies over your shoulder. If you and Lexa were to die, you know that the army behind you would be little more than useless without anyone to direct them. Without Lexa's strength and cunning and the power and fear your title brought, there would be next to nothing stopping Nia from crushing all that opposed her.

You snarl at the thought, hacking viciously at the throat of a man who has wrapped his arms around your leg and is attempting to pull you from your seat. Your dagger embeds itself deeply into the side of his neck, cutting through his jugular and releasing a spray of blood that arcs over your head and covers your skin in a red mist. You meet the tip of a spear with the edge of your sword, twisting the upper half of your body to direct your dagger straight through the woman's chest before you kick her angrily off your blade and watch her limp body disappear beneath the warriors who surround you.

There are so many of them, _there are so many_ , and the only thing that surprises you is that it is Lexa who is pulled down into their midst first, instead of you.

You watch it happen from the corner of your eye, as you parry a blade that's headed directly for your throat. You watch as Lexa's sword gets briefly stuck in a man's chest and that's all the time that it takes before someone is wrapping their arms around the commander's slim waist and dragging her forcefully from her saddle.

The shout that tears from your lips is unexpected to say the least. You sound like a wild animal as you watch Lexa disappear in the crush of bodies that surrounds her and you're barely thinking when you hurriedly pull your feet from your stirrups. You definitely aren't thinking at all when you push yourself up to stand precariously upon your horses back, making an even bigger target of yourself.

An arrow flies past your head, but you barely notice, all that you can think is that there is no way that Lexa can survive the sheer amount of warriors that have surrounded her, even as you watch a few of them fall beneath her blade. And there's no one that can help her, as the _azgeda_ warriors push back the army behind you, leaving the two of you caught in their midst alone.

The distance between you and Lexa isn't far, and in the midst of your adrenaline crazed brain, you reckon that you can jump it.

So of course, that's _exactly_ what you do.

You absentmindedly swipe away a blade directed at your legs, bending your knees in a low crouch before you vault yourself off from your horse's back. For one, blissful, clear headed second as you fly through the air, you realize how fucking _stupid_ you are, but then your body is falling at a rapid rate and there's just no time to think at all.

Your direct your feet straight into the chest of a man who had been watching you with wide, fearful eyes as you flew through the air, knocking him and yourself to the ground in a whirlwind of flailing limbs and weapons. You spin to your feet barely a second later, like a vengeful hurricane, bringing your sword up to deflect a blow, but only after you've slipped your dagger into the heart of the man who softened your fall.

You spin and dodge and kick and parry everything that comes your way, pushing forward slowly but determinedly through the masses of warriors who stand between you and the commander. You catch a glimpse of flowing red fabric as you thrust your dagger into the belly of man who dares to try and stop you and your reward is an unobstructed view of Lexa, who you think maybe doesn't need your help after all.

They say a cornered animal is at its most dangerous and you think that might be true if the way Lexa is fighting is any indication, facing off against no less than half a dozen warriors with her horse at her back. She is a whirlwind of strength and grace, parrying any sword that dares enter her personal space, with her lips pulled back in a feral snarl. Her green eyes are electric and her face, which is clear of war paint, is instead covered with blood.

She is dangerous and deadly, and terribly, scarily _beautiful._

And then you're at her side, deflecting a blow aimed for _her_ head, on the edge of your sword, while you bring your other arm forward to slide your dagger between ribs with a hot gush of blood. You duck beneath a spearhead, which embeds itself into _azgeda_ warrior's arm, and you thank the wielder with a kick to the groin, swiftly followed by Lexa's sword slicing deeply into his throat, spraying you with blood.

You dodge a sword thrust, and the sharp edge just manages to catch your bicep as you twist away, leaving a long bloody line in its wake, but you don't feel the pain with the adrenaline coursing through your body. You feel _invincible,_ actually, surrounded by dead bodies with more and more to replace them, while the commander is guarding your back.

You feel invincible, right up until the moment a man manages to get past Lexa's defenses, bringing his sword down in a wide arc, aimed straight at the commander's exposed back.

You throw your dagger, hitting the man directly in the throat, and it's _just_ enough to direct his sword away from the commander's exposed back, the blade crashing into the dirt instead. You watch as his body falls forward, his heavy weight slamming into the commander's side, knocking her off her feet, where she then quickly disappears beneath half a dozen men that are hacking at her with swords and spears.

You watch as she disappears from view, hear her ragged voice cry out in pain and you are no longer invincible.

You're a fucking _animal._

It's been so long since you've felt like this, years since that red haze has dropped over your eyes, painting the world in blood. You spin around with a cry, holding your sword with two hands and bringing it down to cut through a man's arm as if it was butter. You don't even wait to hear his scream as the limb hits the floor, before your swinging again and cutting off his head in one clean stroke.

You're barely aware of Lexa regaining her feet behind you, rolling out from underneath the bodies that had been pushing her down, her hands once more clenched around her sword, so lost as you are in the fight. You're no longer on the defensive, now you're just swinging your sword is a deadly arc, so fast and hard that anyone stupid enough to get in your way is dead before they can even think to defend against your blows. Your eyes are wild, lips pulled back in a snarl, and there's so much _blood,_ the metallic smell invading your senses until it's all that you know.

Until you hear someone calling your name and you're panting, looking around only to find that there's no one left to fight. There's only you.

And Lexa. Lexa whose sword hangs limply by her side; who is calling your name, again and again.

"Clarke. _Clarke."_

"Lexa." You finally say, once the red haze begins to clear from your eyes, finally dropping your weapon to your side when you notice the way Lexa is watching you, warily.

She doesn't reach out to touch you, even though you can see that she wants to, her fingers twitching around the hilt of her sword. She simply stares into your eyes, holding your gaze for several long moments as your heart pounds painfully in your chest.

"Are you okay?" She asks you, her voice barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. You nod your head, even though you don't feel okay at _all;_ your legs are trembling and every inch of your exposed skin is drenched with blood.

You are so focused on Lexa's grounding gaze, you notice immediately when her intense green eyes flicker over your shoulder, widening slightly in surprise. You react on reflex, twisting around without a second thought, your arm rearing back to throw a punch with every last bit of strength in your body.

It connects with a man's nose. Hard.

Blood sprays over your face as the man cries out in pain, falling backward and landing heavily on the ground, hands reaching up to cover a most definitely broken nose.

Your mouth gapes open when you catch a glimpse of the man's face, beneath the blood that is gushing liberally from his nose.

"Bellamy?"

"Fucking shit!"

You are still gaping, but the healer that lives deep inside your chest takes action almost immediately, despite that fact you feel half frozen with shock. Your body lurches forwards, rushing to bridge the distance between yourself and the man still lying on the ground. You drop to your knees at his side, reaching out with tentative, gentle hands to pull Bellamy's hands away from his face, ignoring the way he flinches at your touch.

"Let me see," you say, in your most no nonsense tone, pulling his hands firmly away from his nose to look at the already swelling wound. You bite your lip guiltily at the blood that drips off his stubbled chin and the dark bruises already beginning to form beneath his eyes. " _Skrish._ I'm sorry, Bell. It's definitely broken."

Bellamy doesn't respond, simply lays upon the ground, staring up at you with wide dark eyes. It is an effort to force yourself to meet his gaze and when you do, all you see is shock and something like wonder reflected back at you. You force yourself to smile, swallowing heavily when Bellamy reaches up to ever so gently touch your cheek with his fingertips.

"Clarke?" His whispers, his voice so reverent that it almost brings tears to your eyes. Your smile is somewhat shaky at best now as you slowly nod your head in response.

"Yeah," you reply, your voice rough with repressed emotion. "Don't you recognize me? Or did I just give you a concussion with my wicked left hook?"

Bellamy's response is a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, as he reaches out to wrap his arms tightly around your neck, pulling you down against his hard body in a hug. The movement is so sudden and for some reason, so unexpected, that your body tenses immediately at the touch. You force yourself to relax, muscles slowly turning to liquid as you melt into the embrace, bringing your hands up to grip your old friend's biceps.

"Hey," you murmur softly into his curly dark hair, which is an unruly mess around his ears.

"Hey," he responds, his voice rough with tears as he presses his nose into your neck. "Holy shit, Clarke."

You let the hug go on for several more moments before you slowly pull back, uncomfortably aware of your current destination in the middle of a battlefield and the blood that soaks your skin. Sure enough, Bellamy's cheek is slick with red from where his face had been pressed against your hair and the sight makes you cringe.

"I know you're probably in a bit of shock," you say, looking into Bellamy's still too wide eyes. "But do you mind if we move this somewhere else?"

Bellamy glances around you and nods his head shakily, taking your hand when you stand up and letting you pull him to his feet. He continues to stare at you, his hand gripping yours in a vice like hold and you are reminded of your audience when Lexa awkwardly clears her throat from behind you.

"I will order for my warriors to set up camp," the commander says when you turn to face her, her eyes flickering between you and Bellamy, glancing down briefly at your hands that are still intertwined. "Despite their crimes, we must build pyres for the _azgeda_ warriors before we can move on and that will take some time. As soon as my tent is prepared, I will have a bath drawn for you so that you may wash the battle from your skin. Is that acceptable for you, Clarke?"

You can do no more than nod your head in response, receiving a short nod in return before Lexa is striding away, shouting orders to her people and leaving you alone with yours.

"I know that you have a lot of questions," you say as soon as Lexa has disappeared into the masses of her army, redirecting your attention to Bellamy. "And you deserve to have them answered, but please, Bell, can it wait until I'm not covered in blood?"

Bellamy seems to look at you again as if for the first time, his eyes scanning over your form and his brows furrowing as he takes in your blood soaked leathers and your red slick hands. His eyes are dark and shadowed when they meet your gaze once more and he nods his head in understanding, seeming unable to find words.

You grip his hand a little tighter, taking in his face; the new lines that have formed around his eyes and the seemingly constant furrow on his brow. There are no grey hairs streaking through his dark curly locks and his skin is a healthy tan, but he looks immeasurably _older_ since you last saw him, as if sixty years had passed instead of six.

You think it must have something to do with the shadows in his eyes, in the way his shoulders have slumped beneath the weight of the world; you think that you probably look the same to him.

"It's really good to see you," you say softly, pulling an almost smile from the man's lips as he regards you. That almost smile had been something that you had missed deeply in the last six years.

"You too, princess," he says, squeezing your hand a little tighter. "You too."


End file.
